


Can I Bum One?

by gracefultree



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, First Meetings, First Time, Harold is experienced, John is nineteen, M/M, Prequel, Sex, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, canon character "death", canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25602574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefultree/pseuds/gracefultree
Summary: Nineteen-year-old John is taking a smoke break when he meets someone with an interesting look in his eye and a way of making a casual gesture mean so much more than it's supposed to.
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 57
Kudos: 63





	1. First Meeting: 1993

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Here's a new style for me -- the prequel! 
> 
> Please let me know if you like it -- pretty please? <3

“Can I bum one off you?”

John turned, lowering the cigarette from his lips.Ordinarily, he was ok with sharing, but he only had three left in the pack and four days until he got paid.Next to him was a slightly shorter man dressed in a suit and tie with rounded wire-rim glasses and spiky hair.At least ten years older than John, he had the air of one of the contractors the military hired for various reasons.This week it was installing a new computer system, or so John had heard.He didn’t know anything about computers — they were still so new that he’d never been trained on them and his high school certainly hadn’t had the money for them — but maybe after this upgrade he’d learn.Grumbling silently to himself, he pulled out his pack.He was still new to the army, and his superiors had implied that the contractors were to be catered to, or else. 

“Thanks, I really needed this,” the man said, accepting the light John offered.He blew smoke out of his nose.“Harold,” he added, extending his hand. 

“John.” 

“Nathan will kill me when I go back in there,” Harold continued.“My partner,” he explained at John’s blank look.“ _Business_ partner,” he clarified, stressing the word.“He’s married, besides.” 

They stood companionably for a few minutes, smoking silently. 

“He keeps trying to make me quit,” Harold exclaimed.“Throws them out when he finds them in my pockets or briefcase.And I tell him, it’s my body, I can do whatever I want with it.” 

“That’s for sure,” John replied, dropping his butt and crushing it under his boot.“Same with sex,” he heard himself say.He felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment, so he looked away.He didn’t blush as much as some of the lighter-skinned guys, but there was a place and time for such comments, and smoking with a stranger probably wasn’t one of them, especially considering where they were.“I mean, no one should be able to tell you who’s allowed and who’s not,” he continued, further mortifying himself.This was _not_ the kind of thing he wanted his buddies to hear him saying. 

Harold didn’t comment, though he reached over and plucked the pack from John’s breast pocket.He took another cigarette and lit it with John’s lighter, then lit one for John and passed it over before returning the pack and lighter to John’s pocket with a careful pat.Surprised at the pointed casualness of the action — not to mention the action itself — John took the cigarette and nodded his thanks.He crumpled the box and tossed it into the nearby trash can. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I took the last one!Where are my manners?What’s your brand again?I’ll bring you a pack tomorrow.We’re going to be here all week.” 

.

.

.

“John!” 

John turned at his name and snatched the cigarette pack out of the air as it nearly hit Jenkins in the head.“Thanks,” he called back, shoving them in his pants pocket, not missing the fact that there was a bit of paper taped to the bottom.Had Harold given him a note along with the cigarettes?“He owed me,” he explained to Jenkins when he realized the other man was looking at him funny. 

“Whatever, man, just stay away from him after this.Mike Dewey said he’s the computer queer,” Jenkins said.“Don’t want to be caught with him, know what I mean?” 

“Definitely not,” John agreed, his mind whirling.He’d wondered if Harold had been flirting the day before, testing.He wasn’t John’s usual type — too old — but beggars couldn’t be choosers on a military base in Texas.“How does Dewey know?”

“Look at the other guy he came with and tell me which one you think is queer.” 

John turned back to watch Harold and the tall blond having a conversation with one of the sergeants.Harold spoke with his hands while the other man stood tall and composed and still, hands clasped behind his back.Harold’s shoes were shined to within an inch of their lives while the other man’s were dusty.Harold had a handkerchief in his breast pocket. 

Confronted with the visual evidence in front of him and the interaction yesterday, John had his answer.“Dewey’s right.” 

“Told you!” 

“Please tell me they’re not being housed on base…”

“It’s either that or the Motel 6, and he looks too prissy for Motel 6.Even the other one looks too good for Motel 6.” 

“Won’t get much better on base,” John replied and changed the subject. 

.

.

.

Harold greeted John with a smile when he knocked on Harold’s door at ten past ten. 

“Right on time,” Harold said, closing and locking the door once John slipped inside. 

“The note was pretty specific,” John answered, nervous, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away from Harold now that he was alone with him and his body had immediately decided that Harold was his type after all.Maybe it was the way Harold’s smile suggested conspiracy and secrets, or how the look in Harold’s eyes gave hints to the passion underneath his conservatively-dressed exterior.Harold stood there sans suit jacket and tie, and while he wasn’t wearing shoes, he hadn’t taken off his socks yet. 

“Still, you interpreted the code,” Harold murmured.“Will you get in trouble for being away from the barracks?” 

“Only if I’m not back by 4am.” 

“A curfew, how… inefficient.” 

John shrugged.“I need at least an hour of sleep to function tomorrow.” 

Harold laughed and stepped forward to take John’s face in his hands to bring him down for a kiss.John pulled him close and kissed him back, allowing himself to slip sideways into desire.He hadn’t let himself desire a man this freely in over a year and if felt fantastic.They had several hours ahead of them, and that would give him time to really enjoy it.His lips were tingling and his cock was hard when they pulled back.Harold’s eyes were bright — and his cock was just as hard. 

“You are delightful,” Harold said, keeping his hold on John’s face while he ran the fingers of his other hand over John’s hair.“I always forget how soft buzzed hair is.” 

John ducked to kiss him again, backing them towards the bed.They flopped down, still kissing.Harold pulled John’s shirttails from his pants and ran his hands over John’s chest.He pinched John’s nipples, making him growl playfully.John nipped at his neck. 

“What do you want?” John murmured as he ran his tongue over the edge of Harold’s ear.Harold gasped, his hips thrusting up, so John dipped inside the ear, feeling Harold shake with pleasure.He palmed Harold’s erection through his pants, shifted his hips so he rubbed his length against Harold’s thigh.

“I want to fuck you,” Harold said between gasps.“Then I want you to fuck me,” he added. 

John was suddenly, painfully aware of his own inexperience.He swallowed, knowing his cheeks were red from the shame.Again.Could he _please_ get through seeing Harold without feeling like an idiot? he asked himself.His erection withered. 

“Do you not want to?” Harold asked, his tone soft, gentle.“I assumed… I mean… it doesn’t have to be _immediately_.We’d build up to it.And I guess we don’t _have_ to if you don’t want that… but I thought…” he trailed off when John didn’t break in to respond.“You seemed so eager…” 

John swallowed again, hearing his throat click from the dryness.He crawled off Harold and sat at the far end of the bed, head in his hands.There was no way he could look at Harold now.God, he’d been a fool to think —

He felt a hand on his back.“Would this be your first time?”

John nodded silently, miserable. 

“For… everything?” 

“Hand jobs or blow jobs behind the gym in high school,” John said.He cleared his throat.“Thought I could bluster my way through,” he admitted.“I _want_ to, I just, I’m nervous.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Nineteen.” 

“Oh,” Harold breathed.“Well.” 

They stayed silent for a long moment, each lost in his own thoughts. 

“I’ve never walked someone through his first time,” Harold said after a while.He got up and went to the closet, digging around in his bag for a bottle of whiskey.He uncapped it, took a drink and passed it to John.“Sorry I don’t have cups.” 

“It’s ok.”John swallowed two large mouthfuls.He cradled the bottle in his hands, still looking at the floor.“How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”Harold took another sip of whiskey and returned the bottle to John before sitting next to him.“Fourteen years.”He paused.“I thought you were older.” 

John snorted to himself.“Are you too old to rob this cradle?” 

“No, you’re legal, you’re able to consent.That’s not the issue.” 

“What is it?” 

John looked up in time to see _Harold’s_ cheeks getting pink. 

“Harold?”

“I simply don’t have enough condoms to do all that I want with you, knowing it’s your first time,” Harold blurted out.He met John’s eyes.“One’s first time should be as good as it can be,” he intoned. 

John smiled hesitantly.“Maybe you should get more, if you’re here the rest of the week,” he suggested, setting down the whiskey so he could start kissing Harold again.“I could be persuaded to come back, you know,” he added.He started unbuttoning Harold’s shirt so he could get at more skin.It seemed like a safe bet at this point that Harold wouldn’t tease him about not knowing what to do. 

“I’ll have to make it worth your while, then,” Harold murmured.His hands moved down John’s back and squeezed his ass.“Yes, I’ll make it worth waiting for me,” he added, his tongue doing delicious things to John’s neck. 

.

.

.


	2. 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 1995, two and a half years since John and Harold met on an Army base in Texas and Harold taught him all about anal sex.

“Yes?” 

“Harold?It’s John.From Texas.We —“

“John.What a pleasure.How have you been?” Harold’s voice was neutral, nothing to indicate how he was feeling to get a call out of the blue from a man he’d slept with years ago.A man he’d thoroughly deflowered, John thought, catching himself smiling.He forced his lips to relax into their usual straight line. 

“Good.I’ve been good.Uh, you said, if I were ever in New York…” John trailed off.He closed his eyes.Had Harold simply given his number and made the offer as a matter of form, knowing they’d probably never cross paths again?How likely was it that a nineteen-year-old soldier and a thirty-something computer geek would meet in the first place, let alone both be interested in men and brave enough to fuck?How likely was it to find themselves in the same place a second time? 

Silence crackled on the line between them. 

“Are you in New York now?” Harold asked. 

“No.Not yet.I have two weeks of leave coming up.They’re shipping me out to Afghanistan again, and…”

“Oh, dear.When?” 

“The fourteenth.My leave starts Friday.”He opened his eyes and started picking at one of the stickers on the payphone, peeling the corner off with his fingernail.“I know I should’ve called sooner, when I first heard, so it wouldn’t be this sudden… You might have plans, or work or something…” 

“How much of your leave did you want to spend with me?” 

John swallowed, nervous.He hadn’t seen Harold in years, and while he wasn’t the blushing youth of back then, he felt his confidence slipping.He had no idea what to expect if he went to New York.He had no idea if there were room for him in Harold’s life, or if Harold ever thought of him… or if Harold had a partner and wouldn’t be able to see him… 

“All of it,” he whispered. 

There was another pause as Harold considered his answer.John closed his eyes and prayed.He remembered those three nights with Harold more vividly than any other sexual encounter of his life.He’d played them and replayed them in his mind on lonely nights in the desert when he felt lost and homesick and scared.He’d compared every male hook up to Harold.He’d pretended some of his female partners were Harold when he’d managed to convince them to do anal.He couldn’t get Harold out of his mind…

“You don’t have family you’d rather see?” Harold finally asked, and John wondered if he was asking more out of formality than anything else. 

“Did that last time.Saw my parents before I went over.They’re gone, now.Both of them.No other family to speak of.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Harold said.“Losing one’s parents is… devastating.” 

“You’ve lost —?” 

“My mother died giving birth to me, so her loss is more academic.I lost my father when I was about your age.”Harold took an audible breath and let it out.“Would you mind if I took care of the travel arrangements?” 

“I can afford my own plane ticket,” John growled, feeling defensive.Yes, Harold was older than him and probably made a lot more money, but he had his pride. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Harold rushed to say.“It’s just that my secretary takes care of these sorts of things so often that —“

“There are _others_?” John demanded, furious.“I’ve spent years thinking we had something special and —“

“No!Not that!I just mean she takes care of travel arrangements for me and my staff regularly!There aren’t any others, John.There’s no one like you in my life.”John closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to banish the anger so he could listen to Harold.“I don’t have time for lovers,” Harold continued into the silence.“I’m making time for you.” 

“We’re — we’re lovers?” John asked, his voice catching. 

“I know it was just three days.I know it was probably a blip for you, the start to an active and fulfilling love life — But I —“Harold broke off.John heard something in Harold’s voice that he couldn’t interpret.“I’m not a bold man, John.I’m not one for taking risks, especially about something like this.I took a chance, flirting with you.I took a chance, leaving that note for you.I took a chance, giving you this number —“John heard Harold take another deep breath. 

“I want to see you,” Harold finished. 

“I want to see you, too,” John said.“But let me pay for the tickets.” 

“All right.My life is rather different than I lead you to believe when we saw each other.You’ll see when you get here, but I should warn you beforehand.” 

“Making lots of money, I take it?” John asked, thinking of Harold having both a secretary _and_ a staff. 

“My apartment has a view of Central Park,” Harold said.“If that tells you anything.” 

John felt his mouth go dry.“You’re that rich?” 

“Computers have come a long way and my company is at the top of the field.” 

John rubbed his forehead. 

“I quit smoking,” Harold said. 

“Nathan finally got to you?”John felt pleased he remembered Harold’s friend’s name.Harold seemed pleased, too, chuckling. 

“It took time away from work.I’ve become a bit of a workaholic.” 

“I only smoke when I’m overseas now,” John offered.“Seems like a reasonable risk when there’s people trying to kill you.” 

“Have you been back long?” 

“About a year.This tour is supposed to be six months, but so was the last one and it lasted nine.It’s all fucked up over there.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

The phone beeped, playing the automated message asking for more money to keep the call going.John sifted through his pockets for another quarter, another dime, anything to keep them on the line just a few seconds longer. 

“Call me with your flight information,” Harold said quickly.“I’ll send a car for you.”He paused.“John?I’m glad you called.I’m glad you’re coming.” 

“Me, too,” John said as the call dropped.He set the receiver down in its cradle and went to find more change to call the airline for a ticket. 

.

.

.

John felt deja vu as he knocked on a door made of solid hardwood and probably cost more than his plane ticket to New York.The car that brought him here hadn’t been a traditional limo, but it was certainly the fanciest car he’d ever ridden in.He shifted from foot to foot, remembering the nervousness of knocking on Harold’s door two and a half years ago, not knowing what to expect but hoping that he and Harold had the same thing on their minds. 

The door swung open silently, revealing Harold — same haircut, new glasses, expensive suit — nervous half-smile.They stared at each other for a long moment until Harold looked away and opened the door wider so John could come in.Once the door closed behind them, John didn’t hesitate.He dropped his bag and stepped right up to Harold to kiss him.He felt Harold’s arms coming around him immediately. 

The kiss felt like fire in the heat of a noontime desert, like cool water after breathing through a sandstorm, like the scent of the pine trees of his hometown the last time he visited.He pulled Harold even closer and ran a hand down his back, over his ass and down to his thigh, lifting Harold’s leg to lock it around his waist.Harold made a small whimpering sound in his throat and clutched at John’s arms.He put his arms around John’s neck. 

“Tell me which way to go,” John got out, bending his knees and lifting Harold fully off the floor — he’d gained a lot of muscle, and a few inches, since they saw each other last, and he wanted to show off.Harold obliged him, clinging to his waist with both legs, arms locked behind his neck, and he carried Harold to what he’d later find out was a guest bedroom. 

“Fuck, Harold, I’m not gonna last,” John said later with a groan, trying to slow the movement of his hips and hold off his impending orgasm.His body wanted nothing to do with that idea and before Harold could answer, he thrust jerkily into Harold and released.He tried to hold himself up, but his arms felt like jelly and he collapsed onto Harold’s back.With a grunt Harold dropped to his belly. 

“There are… other… things you could do…” Harold answered, sucking in large gulps of air. 

Embarrassed that he’d come so quickly, John mumbled something uncomplimentary towards himself.He eased out of Harold and took care of the condom before grabbing Harold’s side and rolling him to his back.Harold’s eyes were soft as he reached up to pull John down for a kiss. 

Fortunately, Harold didn’t comment on John’s lack of restraint. 

Slicking up his fingers, John returned to his task.With Harold on his back, John could use both his hands and his mouth while the rest of him recovered.He found Harold’s prostate and started rubbing on it while simultaneously suckling his balls.His free hand kept Harold’s erection pressed to his stomach, stroking him absently as he concentrated on other things. 

Harold moaned. 

“Hold your legs,” John barked, shifting to lick at Harold’s hole while continuing the pressure on his prostate.Harold wrapped his arms around his knees and held each wrist, locking himself in a compact position that bared every vulnerability to John.John marveled at how Harold hadn’t hesitated one second to do it.Harold must trust him tremendously, he thought.Time to prove that trust wasn’t misplaced. 

He got Harold to the edge of orgasm and kept him there, slowing down whenever Harold seemed about to let go.Harold laughed and cursed at him good-naturedly.He didn’t let go of his wrists, though, so John felt his embarrassment of earlier melting into pride at making Harold feel so good. 

“Gnugh?” Harold groaned, lifting his head in surprise when John pulled his fingers free.He blinked in confusion as John wiped his hand on a small towel.John stretched out over him, pausing to kiss his nose as he snagged a new condom from the nightstand, brandishing it with a smirk. 

Harold’s mouth went slack with pleasure as John eased his new erection into him. 

“Wow,” Harold sighed later, letting his arms and legs relax down to the bed with a thump.John chuckled and grabbed his hand to kiss his knuckles.“Someone’s learned some things,” Harold added, grinning, not at all upset. 

“Worth the wait?” 

“Definitely.” 

John smiled widely.He let go of Harold’s hand and kissed his way up Harold’s stomach and chest, taking a minute along the way to carefully lick up Harold’s cum.“Mmm, tasty,” he murmured.Harold rolled his eyes and grabbed John’s hair to bring him up faster for more kisses. 

They dozed for an hour, side-by-side, John half on top of Harold, until John’s stomach growled loudly enough to wake them both.As Harold puttered around his magazine-worthy kitchen making them grilled cheese, John looked around from his stool at the kitchen bar. 

“Nice view,” he commented, tilting his beer at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park. 

“I like to go running in the Park when I can,” Harold said.“I average five to seven miles.” 

“You don’t want to know my routine,” John replied.“It’s considerably more involved.” 

“I’ll find out, I hope, the next few weeks.There’s a gym in the building you can use.” 

“Yeah.”John paused.“When you said you’d make time for me…”

“I took the whole two weeks off work, unless there’s an emergency of some kind.Owning half the company has certain advantages.With you going overseas again, I didn’t want to miss any opportunity to see you.”Harold flipped the sandwiches and John felt the air in the room shift.“I suppose there are some things we should talk about.” 

“You want to do that now?” 

“No time like the present,” Harold said.He nudged the sandwiches slightly, his eyes focused on the melting cheese.“I’ve had sex with other people, but I’ve always worn condoms.I don’t have HIV or AIDS.I got tested.” 

“Same here.” 

Harold nodded.“My life —“ He frowned to himself.“I’m far more complicated than I may seem at first.” 

“I think that goes for everyone, Harold,” John said. 

“No, but —“Harold stopped again.“I’m usually a very private person,” he started.“I don’t open up to people easily.And yet I trusted you from the beginning.I’ve told you more about me in the few hours we’ve had than Nathan learned in the first year we lived together at college.”Abruptly, he flipped off the stove and turned to John.“What I’m trying to say is… I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m quite sure I want you in mine.” 

John stared at him, startled by the definitiveness of his statement. 

“I know you can’t be out while you’re in the military,” Harold continued.“And I know you don’t control your own schedule or leave time.And I’m not asking for a commitment of any kind.We’re only meeting for the second time, after all.But I’ve been thinking about this a lot since you called. 

“When we parted, I put our experiences in a file in my head for one-time meetings and anonymous encounters.I enjoyed it, and you, very much, but I didn’t expect to hear from you.I thought about it occasionally, remembering fondly how much you seemed to enjoy your first experiences with anal sex, and how much _I_ enjoyed giving you those experiences. 

“But then you called me, and that changed things.It changed the way I thought about you and those three nights we had.What it comes down to is that I don’t want it to be another three years before we talk again.Or write, or something.If the whole two weeks go as well as these first few hours.” 

Harold turned his back on John to plate the sandwiches, and probably to give John a minute to process what he said.He set the plates down and joined John at the counter, taking the stool next to him. 

“How can you know all that?” John wondered.“Like you said, we barely know each other.” 

Harold shrugged and took a bite.“I don’t know.Instinct?”He swallowed and raised his head to meet John’s eyes.“I’m the kind of man who’s always thinking.Usually about several things at once, so to just _know_ something, especially something like this, it’s new to me.”He started eating again.“Have I been too much?” 

John shook his head and cupped Harold’s cheek with his hand.“I don’t know what to think, Harold.It’s a lot.I like you.I liked you then, and I like you now.I’m drawn to you.I feel like I want all that to be true, to be real, but it’s hard to trust, you know?” 

Harold nodded to his sandwich. 

“The thing is… I don’t want a sugar daddy, or whatever,” John blurted.“I like you for you.The sex is great.This,” he waved his hand to indicate the apartment.“This is not me.” 

“It _is_ a bit ostentatious, isn’t it?” Harold agreed.“I don’t always stay here, though it’s technically my primary residence, but I wanted you to understand that this is part of my life.I have other places that might be more to your liking.” 

John took a huge bite his sandwich to avoid saying something stupid. 

“Have you been dating?” Harold asked. 

John swallowed quickly.“Casually.Honestly, though, it’s mostly hookups.You?” 

“I’ve tried, but I don’t tend to have much luck past six months.I don’t understand people’s motivations a lot of the time.It makes it difficult to form connections.” 

“How many of them know about this?” John wondered, waving at the apartment again. 

“The pattern began in high school,” Harold said, avoiding a direct answer.“I didn’t expect much from high school or college romances, having read too much by then to think that I would be the exception who found his long-term partner young.But once I hit my mid-twenties and my friends all started dating seriously and getting married and having children, well, I knew there was a problem.And since I’m the common denominator, it was an easy conclusion that I’m the one at fault.” 

John grunted and set down his empty plate.He stretched his arms over his head and sighed when his joints popped.“I think we should fuck again.” 

There was a tense moment of silence where he watched Harold’s eyes widen comically.Then Harold cleared his throat, put down his own plate and turned to John. 

“Yes, I think that’s an excellent idea.Come,” he waved at John to follow him to a completely different part of the apartment than John had already seen. 

.

.

.

With Harold, John developed a deep appreciation for face-to-face sex with a man.It wasn’t something his hook-ups usually wanted — speed was often of the essence, — and kissing Harold was far more pleasant than kissing any of them had been — probably a combination of Harold’s experience and their mutual desire that the kisses be more than the perfunctory ones he was used to.Harold took a keen interest in both of their pleasure, and slow languorous kisses combined with gentle thrusting and Harold’s ability to maintain his erection so much longer than John could hold his combined into an experience of sex like no other. 

“How are you not sore?” John wondered one evening after forty minutes of small movements that kept his anus engaged and his prostate practically dancing. 

“Mmm,” Harold answered, occupied with kissing and nibbling John’s throat. 

“Seriously,” John said. 

“I could ask you the same thing, with a refractory period as short as yours.” 

John chuckled.“I’m twenty-one.You should’ve seen me at sixteen!” 

“I’m sure I couldn’t have kept up, even when I was that young,” Harold decided.“Still, each man has his own skills and talents, doesn’t he?” he asked with a preparatory smirk. 

Harold shifted, a deft movement of his hips that sent new waves of pleasure spiraling away from John’s spine.John groaned and threw his head back as Harold changed the pace to quick, jerky movements — big enough to tease but small enough to keep him riding the edge.There were certainly advantages to being with someone older, he thought. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Harold!” 

The sudden exclamation from the direction of the doorway froze them both.Harold turned to look, John doing the same.Harold’s friend Nathan stood in the doorway, wearing a damp tan raincoat over his suit and a thunderous expression on his face. 

“N— Nathan,” Harold stammered.“What —“

“I knew there was something going on when you didn’t show up at work for three days,” Nathan complained.“But this?We do _not_ need a scandal right now!” 

“I’m not aware of anyone _else_ in my bedroom who’s not supposed to be here,” Harold said tartly, extricating himself from John and the sheets.In a bold move John didn’t expect, Harold pulled off the condom he was still wearing and tossed it to the floor in front of himself.Nathan swallowed visibly and took a step backwards.“Are you going to out me, Nathan?After all these years?I _told_ you I was taking time off.It’s not my fault you didn’t remember.I haven’t gone on a vacation in four years, as you know.I think I deserve one for all the work I do.Gina has my schedule and I’m sure she shared it with Alice.There’s no reason for you to be here interrupting us.” 

He stalked towards Nathan, deliberately not covering himself.Nathan made a show of looking in the other direction. 

“Harold, there’s no need to —“

“What?Embarrass you with my nakedness when you show up unannounced in _my_ home?Be unashamed of who my lover is?” 

“That’s not —“

“What.Are.You.Doing.Here?” Harold demanded, and John knew some of his commanding officers would have shrunk back at his tone.Hell, he felt _himself_ shrivel a little, though it was immediately followed by a stiffening of certain parts at the thought of Harold ordering him around in that tone. 

“You weren’t answering your phone and there’s an emergency Board meeting in the morning,” Nathan answered, staring over Harold’s shoulder at a painting on the wall.“I figured it’s better for me to come than to send Gina.NATO’s bombing Bosnian Serbs.The government wants us to speed up production on that program —“

Harold sighed and rubbed his face.“I don’t know why the Board needs to meet about that. _They_ can’t do anything.Two weeks’ delay won’t matter in developing the software to get it to them when they want it, which is probably yesterday,” he muttered.He turned around and picked up his dressing gown from the foot of the bed, then sat down next to where John was lying on his side.“What time is the meeting?” he asked, his eyes on John instead of Nathan. 

“Ten.” 

“I’ll be there,” Harold said.He ran his fingers through John’s short hair in an intimate gesture that was clearly a dismissal.He turned sharply back towards Nathan when he didn’t immediately leave.“Now if you don’t mind…” 

“Yes, yes, I’ll leave you to your little assignation,” Nathan grumbled uncharitably. 

They waited in silence until they heard the front door close. 

“How bad is all that?” John finally asked. 

“Not very,” Harold answered.“Three to four hours out of our day tomorrow, a lecture from Nathan about the safety of sleeping with men when I like women well enough, and a few sleepless nights when I’m back at work.” 

“You’re not gay?” John heard himself asking, immediately berating himself for such a direct question. 

Harold chuckled.“I know all the evidence points in that direction, especially when one considers the hyper-masculine presentation of the military men with whom you consort on a regular basis, but I don’t feel the need to identify with any particular label for my sexuality,” he replied, not upset at the inelegant way John had asked.His fingers outlined the shell of John’s ear.“Nor, I suspect, do you.” 

John grinned.“Got it in one,” he said with a laugh. 

“Care to join me in the shower?Wash off the interruption?” 

“Yes!” 

.

.

.

The care package arrived the week before Christmas with a New York postmark and a PO Box as a return address.John knew it was from Harold without a real address, though.There was no one in his life who would send him something, and those organizations that sent care packages to soldiers usually had a logo.John sat on his bunk to open it. 

First he pulled out a crudely hand-knit black cap with his initials sewn into the bottom edge, followed by a new Nokia mobile phone and charger.There was a picture of the Queensborough Bridge from the spot he and Harold had a picnic on his second to last day in New York before he shipped out.There was a prepaid calling card, a carton of cigarettes, matchbooks from several of the restaurants and bars they’d been to together, a box of expensive chocolates, and a letter with _John_ scrawled across the front of the envelope in elegant calligraphy that continued in the letter.At the bottom of the box was a royal blue silk handkerchief with a navy embroidered H in the corner. 

_Dear John,_

_I miss you already, even though it hasn’t been that long since we last held each other.I hope these gifts find you well and whole and safe.I modified the phone so that you can call me from wherever you can get a signal — no matter the carrier.Please call me from time to time so that I know you’re safe._

_Merry Christmas,_

_H._

John pulled the handkerchief out and raised it to his face, inhaling the clean scent.It didn’t smell like Harold, but the smoothness of the silk reminded him of Harold’s dressing gown and his ties and the time Harold draped him in raw silk and painted over it, thrilling him with the novel experience. 

“What, she couldn’t send a picture?” John’s bunkmate demanded, plopping down next to him. 

John shook his head and started putting the gifts away in his locker.The handkerchief went into his inside breast pocket, carefully folded.“Can’t stand getting her picture taken,” he replied, easily going with the assumption that “H” was a woman.He’d become an expert at code-switching since returning to the army after his two-week holiday with Harold, his swagger so big his friends couldn’t help but ask for details of his conquests.“I’ll convince her one day,” he added.“For now, though, this is good.I didn’t expect anything.We got together right before I came over here.” 

“You’re gonna send her something back, though, right?” 

“You mean like sand and spent bullets?I don’t think so.” 

Willie picked up the hat.“She must have made this.Maybe you can make her something.” 

John raised a sardonic eyebrow. 

“I’ll get Malcolm to get some pictures of you.She’d like that, seeing her man in uniform,” Willie asserted, slapping John on the back and disappearing to another part of the base to find their resident amateur photographer. 

“Actually, he’d probably _love_ that,” John said softly to himself. 

.

.

.


	3. 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John loves surprising Harold.

When John had time off after his second tour was finished, he took the first flight he could get to New York.He called Harold from JFK as soon as he was allowed to use his cell phone. 

“John?Is everything all right?It must be the middle of the night over there!” 

“I’m in New York,” John answered, grinning even though Harold wouldn’t be able to see him.“Surprise!” 

Harold gasped.He heard movement and then Harold’s voice came through muffled as he covered the phone to talk to someone else. 

“George, something’s come up.Can you finish without me and bring it to Nathan in the morning?Thanks.”John couldn’t hear George’s response, but soon he had Harold’s full attention.“Did your flight just get in?I don’t have anything at home, but we could get dinner somewhere.It’ll take me a few minutes to close up everything here and leave a note for Gina.” 

“You’re still at work at 8:30?” John asked.“You work too much!” 

“I know, I know, but I’m leaving now.See what a good influence you are on me?” 

John laughed.“Where should I meet you?” 

Dinner was fantastic — John would never remember what he ate, just that it was really good and he was with Harold.They were both so excited to see each other that they made out in the cab on the way back to one of Harold’s “regular” apartments John had seen on his last visit.He was much more comfortable in one of the regular apartments than the one at Central Park. 

“I’m so happy,” Harold said as they exited the elevator.“I feel almost drunk!” 

John used their clasped hands to pull Harold towards him once they were in the hall.“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you in the outer atmosphere all week,” he purred, leaning down for a kiss.Harold melted against him, clutching his arm to keep standing.They stumbled their way to Harold’s door, then tripped over each other in their haste to get inside. 

Harold started undressing him as soon as they recovered from landing on the floor.He straddled John’s hips and ground down onto his erection, already hard himself.Impatient, John undid Harold’s belt and fly, coaxing his dick out to stroke.Harold gasped in pleasure and left off John’s half-unbuttoned shirt to tackle his belt. 

“Fuck, yes.Sixty-nine me,” John ordered, and soon he had Harold’s dick in his mouth while Harold sucked enthusiastically at his. 

John was moments away from his orgasm when Harold’s cell phone rang.“Ignore it,” Harold mumbled around him, still busy trying to get him off.John, too startled, waited through the ringing, then felt able to continue.The phone started ringing again.Harold let go of John’s dick and rummaged in his pocket for his phone. 

“Goddamn it, Nathan!This had better be an emergency!”John couldn’t hear Nathan’s answer, but Harold’s body language changed — he deflated.“Oh.Yeah, I didn’t think —“He slipped off John to sit against the wall.“No, I’m sorry.I should’ve said something.Everything’s fine.”He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his forehead against his knee.“I wasn’t thinking.It happened so fast…” 

John hurriedly put himself back together and sat next to Harold, wrapping an arm around him.Harold leaned onto him, accepting the comfort. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean to scare you —“Harold listened for another long moment.“John called from the airport.He came to surprise me.Yes, _that_ John.”Harold sighed.“I understand.Yes.I’ll be there.”Harold sat up straighter.“You mean that?I’ll ask him later… we went out to dinner first!Get your mind out of the gutter!”Harold sighed again.“Yes, I promise, Nathan.”He ended the call and tossed the phone to the floor. 

They sat in silence as Harold squirmed back into his pants. 

“He thought I was hurt or sick,” Harold said. 

“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” 

“No, it’s not your fault,” Harold rushed to say.“I just left without saying anything.” 

“I’m glad you were excited to see me.” 

“I’m _very_ excited.” 

“What did Nathan want you to ask me?” 

“He wants to meet you.Get to know you.” 

“In a protective brother or best friend kind of way?” 

“Something like that,” Harold answered.He got to his feet.“I told you that I haven’t had many relationships that last longer than six months.It’s been seven since we started this.He wants to meet my boyfriend, see if he’s good enough for me.” 

“I’m not your boyfriend!” John exclaimed, jumping up. 

Harold’s eyes narrowed.“Then what are we?” 

“I don’t know, dating, maybe.I don’t feel comfortable being a _man’s_ boyfriend.” 

“I apologize for thinking we were more than we are,” Harold said in a tight voice.He turned and walked into the apartment, absently flipping a few light switches as he went.John squinted against the sudden light. 

“Harold!” 

The older man whirled, rushing back to poke John in the chest with each point he made.“I let you call me _Harriet_ to your friends,” he hissed.“We talk three times a week.We send letters several times a month.You _show up_ in _my_ city to _surprise_ me.I learned to _knit_ for you!” Harold shouted.“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be the only man in a knitting class full of old ladies?” 

John took Harold’s hand in both of his.He tried to raise it to his lips, but Harold snatched it back.He opened his mouth and took a huge breath to shout again.John lunged forward, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him, hard.Harold struggled, but he was no match for John’s strength.Eventually he settled and responded to the kiss. 

“Listen to me, Harold,” John said when he broke it off.He kept hold of Harold’s shoulders and kept their eyes locked on each other.“It’s not about what we are or what we’re doing.”He gave Harold a little shake.“It’s just about what we call it.All those things you said, I want them.I want all of them.You want me to do something humiliating like learn decoupage, I’ll do it.I don’t even know what decoupage is, but I’ll learn if you want me to!”He paused. 

“I’m in the Army.I can’t go around thinking I have a boyfriend because if I slip up and say something, it would destroy my career.I’d be dishonorably discharged and who the fuck is going to hire me after that?So it’s not just my military career, it’s my whole life!I don’t have a million dollars and lawyers to protect me if the wrong person sees a picture and outs me!” 

Harold stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“Do you understand?” John asked. 

Harold blinked a few times and nodded, his eyes sliding away from John’s.“I —“

“Look, I’ve really enjoyed this.I want to keep doing it with you.But I’m not willing to risk my career.” 

Harold nodded again and wrapped his arms around John in a tight hug.They stood embracing each other for a long time. 

“I’m sorry,” Harold said softly. 

“Me, too.I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I forget, when you’re not here, how hard it is on you, how young you are.I forget that you’re going through things now that I dealt with twenty years ago.I should be more mindful.” 

“We’ll figure it out.I didn’t tell you yet, but I’m reporting to Fort Meade after this.” 

“Fort Meade?Why, that’s fantastic!I could come down on the weekends.”Harold paused.“If you wanted me to,” he added after a moment. 

“I want you to,” John said, tilting Harold’s face up.“I’ll come here, too.It shouldn’t just be you traveling.” 

“You’re willing to do that?” 

“I’d like to see you more often than twice a year,” John pointed out.“It’ll be nice to have something to spend money on again.I finally have some savings!” he added excitedly. 

Harold smiled and stood on his toes to kiss him.The kiss became kisses.John pulled back. 

“Should we try doing it in the bed this time?” he asked. 

“I’ll turn off my phone,” Harold responded. 

Later, curled together on the sofa with a nature documentary on mute in the otherwise dark living room, Harold started talking.He told John about growing up in rural Iowa, his father’s failing health and how the burgeoning computer industry saved his sanity and possibly his life.John petted his chest as he listened, instinctively knowing that this was a moment that could be broken with the smallest false move.When Harold finished, he opened up about why he joined the army in the first place, about his father and adoptive father and biological father, and how none of them lived long enough to be much of a role model — other than teaching him to sacrifice oneself for the greater good.He worried aloud about the state of the world, and the wars he was fighting, and how, even now and with all his training, he felt scared sometimes. 

Harold asked about his training and daily life on the base.John wondered what the world of high-tech was like and why Harold routinely stayed at work for twelve hours or more.That got Harold expounding on the difference between different computer operating systems and why his was better and what he was hoping to do to help with world through technology.He segued into books and how he collected first editions and how he worried that his beloved computers would eventually destroy the publishing industry. 

Eventually, John felt comfortable enough to tell Harold about the women he’d hooked up with when the frustration got too hard to deal with. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he finished.“It’s just —“

“It’s fine,” Harold said, running his fingertips down John’s arm.“And it’s not like we talked about it last time.I figured it might happen, so I’m not upset.”He repeated the motion.“Or, more precisely, I’d rather hear about it afterwards instead of before or during.”He looked up and met John’s eyes.“I’d like to be the only man you’re with, though.” 

“You are,” John assured him.“Like I said, I can’t risk that kind of thing where anyone could find out.A few months back, somebody caught two guys doing it.They ratted each other out immediately, but one played it like he’d been seduced and it wasn’t his fault.People had seen him with a girlfriend, so the officers believed him.They were both discharged, but only the other guy dishonorably.” 

Harold grunted and continued stroking his arm. 

“So you wouldn’t want to hear about someone I wanted to ask out?” John clarified. 

“Not unless you thought it might have the potential to become something serious that would risk our relationship.” 

John frowned.“That’s not going to happen.I’m dating _you_.” 

“Yes, well, earlier you said you didn’t want to be my boyfriend, so what am I supposed to think?” 

“Harold,” John said with a sigh.“What I’m trying to say is that when I’m overseas — and _only_ then — and can’t see you, I might want to fuck someone, but that’s all it’d be.You can do the same, too.” 

“Maybe I will,” Harold muttered unhappily. 

“They promised me a year stateside before they ship me out again, so we don’t have to think about it for a while.” 

“As you say.” 

.

.

.

John knew within moments of meeting him that Nathan didn’t have a subtle bone in his body.So when John was returning to their table after a quick trip to the restroom, he knew something was up by the set of Nathan’s shoulders as he talked to Harold.Hidden by a large plant, he heard a just enough of their exchange to know something was afoot before he interrupted. 

“You’ve been with him longer than anyone else I’ve known you to date!If you want this to last, you’re going to have to tell him, Harold,” Nathan said earnestly, leaning forward and slapping his hand onto the table to emphasize his point.Harold looked away from Nathan, his expression downcast.“Look, I know how you feel, but it’s better to rip the bandaid off at the beginning, right?Rather than letting it fester and become worse with each passing year?” 

“Tell me what?” John asked, smoothly slipping into his seat next to Harold.He looked from one man to the other as the tension grew.Harold frowned and twitched in his seat.Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him.John waited, suspecting Harold was about to break and say whatever it was. 

“Harold Wren isn’t my real name,” Harold reluctantly told the tea light at the center of the table. 

John tilted his head and regarded both men with narrowed eyes.“Really?” he asked, allowing suspicion into his voice. 

“I told you you should have told him sooner!” Nathan exclaimed softly.“Secrets and relationships don’t mix.I should know.Olivia _still_ won’t talk to me after the last fight.” 

“I, ahem, it’s like this…”

John shrugged and relaxed, resting his arms along the back of the booth.“You don’t have to tell me, Harold.Whatever it is, tell me on your time.I already knew you had several names,” he added, picking up his wine and taking a sip.“Like an author with a pseudonym or an actor with a stage name.It probably helps with taxes, or something.You know, rich people’s problems.” 

Both Nathan and Harold stared at him in surprise. 

“I’m not blind or stupid,” John explained.“I’ve seen nearly a dozen of your apartments, and each one had a different name on the mailbox.I figured it was something you’d get around to telling me eventually.Or not.I don’t need to know.” 

“Wow,” Nathan said, letting out a sigh.“You sure know how to pick them, Harold.” 

Harold looked over and met John’s eyes — the relief in his expression was palpable.“Thank you,” he said.John smiled in return and gave him a quick, restaurant-appropriate kiss. 

The sex that night was anything but appropriate.John stripped as they were walking in the door of one of Harold’s apartments — one that said “Starling” on the mailbox and seemed to belong to a tech-geek, if John was any judge after seeing so many pieces of Harold’s lives.He managed it so quickly that Harold had barely turned around when John presented himself, splayed out on the coffee table. 

Harold dropped the bottle of wine in his hand. 

As John was already stretched by the bright blue butt plug he’d inserted when he’d been in the bathroom, Harold didn’t wait for a verbal invitation.He freed his dick, hurriedly put on a condom and started drilling John immediately.John lay back on the slick glass table and urged Harold on until he was sliding back and forth on his own sweat as Harold pounded into him, profanities falling from his lips with each thrust. 

Harold came much more quickly than usual. 

After a minute to catch his breath, Harold pushed off John and dragged him to the bedroom where he strapped on a dildo to continue fucking John until he was a babbling mess and the sheets were soaked with his cum. 

.

.

.


	4. 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 1999... time to party?

John knew Harold had money — that was a given from the beginning.As they continued to see each other, it became more noticeable.Harold would find a way to be in whichever city where John had leave, no matter where he was in the country or world, once on twelve-hour notice when John got a surprise week off.Harold’s clothing and tastes in food and drink shifted to the more expensive.He was always willing to let John pay, and never complained about what John picked, but it was clear he’d developed a more subtle palette than burgers and fries.He avoided giving John expensive gifts — other than a new cell phone every Christmas which he justified by saying they were really for _him,_ to take away the anxiety of not being able to reach John, —preferring something handmade when he had the skill, which John appreciated.Neither of them wanted Harold to be a sugar daddy, least of all Harold.And his knitting had gotten better. 

It was two and a half years into John’s third tour in the Middle East when the true reality of Harold’s wealth hit home.Injured when an IED took out part of the caravan he was guarding, John found himself in an American military hospital in Germany while some of his more severely-injured friends remained in the desert war zone.When Harold appeared and bullied his way into John’s (private) room sixteen hours later, despite no familial relationship on paper, John understood what had happened. 

“How _dare_ you bring me here when my friends are dying over there?” he growled, even before Harold could approach the bed.Harold’s eyes widened and he drew back a step in fear, but Harold — ridiculously over-dressed, slightly effeminate, definitely queer little Harold — set his jaw and expression and responded in kind. 

“How dare you get angry with me when I saved your life?” Harold snarled back.“I got you out of there!”He stiffened his spine and drew up to his full height, unintimidating as it was, and continued.“I’ll have you know I sent a full hospital’s worth of supplies to your base as well as a phalanx of medical personnel!I wasn’t going to leave your companions to die while I saved only you!How dare you think that of me!”He threw a bulky, state-of-the-art satellite phone at John and turned on his heel.“Call me when you’re able to act like a civilized person!” 

He was gone before John could recover from catching the phone. 

John didn’t have to wait long for Harold to return, though.He slunk back into the room fifteen minutes later. 

“I’m sorry.I was just so worried about you —“

John took his hand and brought his fingers to his lips before dropping it.“I’m sorry I was angry,” he said.“I know you wouldn’t do something just for me.” 

Harold sat and listened to his war stories and typed on his laptop while John napped for hours, leaving only when the nursing staff kicked him out for the night.John sighed, feeling the pain of his injuries rush back now that he was alone. 

“You all right, sugar?” one of the nurses asked when she came to check on him an hour later.Monica, her name tag read, and she had short grey hair and a calm, kind personality John found annoying, given the circumstances and his desire to keep from showing pain or emotions. 

“Fine.” 

Monica paused, glanced out into the hallway, then closed the door and came over to sit in the chair Harold had been occupying for most of the day.“Having someone nearby helps, doesn’t it?” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

She pursed her lips and glared at him. 

“What?” 

“You’re a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?” she said bluntly. 

He rolled his eyes and frowned.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Twenty-five.” 

“Just a child, no wonder,” she said with a shake of her head.“If you’d said one word, we’d have been able to let him stay,” she explained.“Call him your cousin, or whatever.” 

John tensed, suddenly alert. 

“Oh, calm down!You think we don’t know love helps people heal?It doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s love.All those rules are bullshit, and we know it!Now, Joanne might not like it, and most of the doctors pretend they don’t see it, but the rest of us, we just want you boys better and out of here.So call your boyfriend in the morning, say he’s your cousin, and then you won’t have to spend another night alone,” she ordered. 

“He’s not my —“

She raised an eyebrow.“Don’t lie to me, young man.I’m gay, too, and I can spot it a mile away.” 

“We don’t call each other anything,” John said, deciding not to correct her on her assessment of his and Harold’s sexuality.There were only so many verbal arguments he could face at any one time.“Not like that.Not really.” 

“Maybe you should start.That man loves you, no doubt about it.” 

“It’d be nice if he said it,” John muttered. 

“I’ll give you one more piece of advice,” she said, getting to her feet.“He’s waiting for you.If you want him to say it, you’ve got to say it first.” 

“That makes no sense,” John protested.“He’s fourteen years older than me.He came on to me the first time.He’s the one with the money and apartment and everything.He has all the power.He’s the one who showed up here out of nowhere —“ John broke off and looked away, upset that she’d gotten him to talk. 

“And that’s why _you’ve_ got to say it first.He knows he has all that power.You think he doesn’t?He probably worries about it when you’re not together, asking himself if you’re just with him for his money.” 

“I told him at the start I didn’t want a sugar daddy,” John exclaimed, unable to keep to himself when it came to Harold, knowing she was safe in terms of DADT.“I don’t!It’s just — he makes me feel things.More than anyone else.”He paused.“It’s not just sex.I mean, I don’t want it to be.”

“So grow a pair and tell him.” 

It took a long time before John was able to sleep that night. 

.

.

.

“That woman you were seeing, what was her name?” John asked. 

“Maggie.I ended it over six months ago,” Harold answered.“I told you then, remember?And I only went out with her because you insisted I find someone local.” 

John grunted. 

“Why are you asking?”

“I’ve been thinking.It’s been, what, almost four years since we got together?” 

“Four years, two months.” 

“Shit, I missed our anniversary.” 

Harold shrugged. 

“You didn’t say anything,” John accused. 

“It’s not like it’s the first time,” Harold responded, shifting in his chair.“You only remembered the first year, and I think it’s because we’d been seeing each other several times a month.I didn’t want a repeat of the last two years when you panicked and tried to make up for it and said something dismissive or hurtful.” 

“You didn’t send a card, or mention it in a letter or anything,” John protested. 

“I wanted _you_ to remember!I’m not the only one in this relationship.And being overseas isn’t an excuse,” Harold continued.“You were doing routine maneuvers both times, no combat.” 

“I’ve made you sad again,” John said, shame making his throat tight. 

Harold shrugged again, his eyes on the end of John’s bed where his chart hung. 

“Harold, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Thinking about what?” Harold asked with a sigh when John didn’t continue. 

“I want to be your boyfriend.I still can’t be out, but, between us and with your friends,I’ll be your boyfriend.”He paused, testing his words in his head before continuing.“They say love makes you stronger… but it’s terrifying, too.Sometimes, when I think of you, I feel like I’ll never be able to survive if I can’t see you, or hear your voice, or —“He broke off, unable to continue.He looked away towards the window and the view of the parking lot. 

“John…”Harold paused, his voice thick.He cleared his throat.“Did you just say that you love me?” 

“What if I did?” John muttered, feeling his cheeks burning.He’d never said that to anyone but his parents, and it felt raw and uncomfortable to admit. 

Harold stood and leaned over the bed to take John’s face in his hands.John tried to keep his eyes closed, to keep from having to deal with the consequences of not saying it directly, but eventually he opened them when Harold stroked his cheeks with his thumbs and didn’t stop.Harold had tears in his eyes. 

“I was so scared to say anything,” Harold whispered, uncaring that the tears started falling.“I’ve loved you for so long, but I didn’t think I could say anything.I —“

“Harold…”

“I love you, John.I love you so much it hurts being away from you.” 

John covered Harold’s hands with his own and stared into his eyes.Harold tilted his head to kiss him, and John felt Harold’s happiness in the press of their lips and shared breath. 

.

.

.

“How long are you planning on staying?” John heard Monica ask.He was drifting between sleep and wakefulness, and he knew it was the middle of the night.He opened his eyes long enough to see Harold’s face by the light of his laptop, then closed his eyes.He’d exerted most of his energy earlier at physical therapy, and his entire body felt heavy. 

“Until he’s better,” Harold answered.He stopped typing.“I’m fortunate in that I can work from anywhere that there’s an internet connection, and the staff here have made sure I have one.I understand that you’re the one who convinced John to discuss his feelings with me.” 

“I am.How’d he do?” 

Harold chuckled.John felt Harold’s hand on his head, running his fingers through hair that was longer than he’d had it in years. 

“For a young man who’s been taught that feelings are a liability, he was quite expressive.” 

“How long —“

“A little over four years,” Harold interrupted. 

“You seem very lucky to have met and connected.” 

“It’s luck we’ve had to create and cultivate.There are a lot of things in our way.” 

“Age, distance, being gay,” she commented. 

“Among other things.”Harold sighed and he moved his hand away.“I truly appreciate how you’ve looked after him.” 

“It’s my job.” 

“No, I mean by talking to him.Sometimes it’s easier to hear things from an outsider rather than a lover who’s entwinned in the situation.” 

“True.”There was a pause.“How long are you going to be up doing that?You need your sleep, too,” she said. 

“Do you remember the Joint STARS E-8A aircraft that was first deployed during Desert Storm?I’m collaborating with the company to upgrade the computing technology for a new deployment.As many of the people working on the project are in Boston, I wanted to have as much done by the end of business there as possible.” 

“It’s past 7:30pm in Boston.Save your work and go to sleep.” 

Harold gave a long suffering sigh.“If I must,” he grumbled. 

John drifted into full sleep as they continued talking and Harold packed away his computer for the night. 

.

.

.

John shook sand from his clothes and entered the bar, tired and in need of a drink.He’d been feeling increasingly antisocial the last week, and his buddies had noticed and told him to get some R & R on his own tonight.Usually, that kind of thing would upset him — he tended to prefer the camaraderie of the barracks and the guys —but with leave hours away and Harold somewhere in the air between New York and John, he relished the thought of a night to himself to mope and miss his boyfriend.With any luck, he wouldn’t see his buddies again until he reported back to base— they’d been teasing him mercilessly about all the sex he’d have when he saw his girlfriend and he didn’t want to run into them when out with Harold. 

_Ten hours to go_ , he thought, wondering how he’d amuse himself — 

Harold sat at a table in the corner, reading, a glass of wine at his elbow.John felt himself starting to smile as he veered in that direction, any desire to be alone banished at the sight of the older man. 

“This seat taken?” he asked.Harold looked up.His smile brightened his whole face and John’s mood felt lighter already.“I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow,” he added, taking a seat across from him. 

“I got an earlier flight,” Harold answered.“It is _so_ good to see you!”There was an awkward moment when he extended a hand, then realized they weren’t in New York and pulled it back, then started when John squeezed his knee under the table quickly. 

They smiled at each other until the waiter arrived and asked for John’s order. 

“It’s weird, meeting in public like this,” John commented. 

“It hardly seemed appropriate to present myself at your hotel where all your comrades are also staying,” Harold replied. 

“What I mean, is that I’d rather be —“

“Hush,” Harold interrupted.John glanced over his shoulder and saw half-a-dozen men in fatigues coming in from outside.He didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t mean anything.There was a constant stream of soldiers in and out of the base and surrounding areas.He was extremely glad he’d changed into civvies as soon as he dropped his stuff at his hotel.And taken a shower.He couldn’t help the sand, but at least he smelled clean. 

“What are you reading?” he asked when he turned back. 

“Some nonsense about computer learning theory,” Harold answered with a dismissive wave at the book in question.“It’s complete garbage.” 

“So why read it?” 

Harold sighed.“I was hoping to recruit one of the authors, but if he actually _thinks_ this, well, I’ll have to find someone more competent.” 

“Still working hard, I see.” 

Harold shrugged.“I hope to put it all out of my mind for the next week,” he declared.“I have much more important things to be thinking about.”Their eyes met again and held for a long moment.“Do you think you’d be interested in _experimenting_?” 

John felt his mouth go dry at Harold’s tone and quickly gulped at his beer. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“I’d like you to wear a cock ring while I milk your prostate.” 

John inhaled beer and started coughing.“You can’t… you can’t just _say_ things like that,” he protested when he’d recovered.“Not in public!” 

“If you didn’t want me to say it here, you shouldn’t have asked,” Harold replied primly, handing John a napkin to wipe the spill on the table. 

John shook his head to clear it, taking a subtle look around.No one was close enoughto have overheard Harold.He let out a breath in relief.

“It’s been four months since I’ve been able to look in your eyes, let alone touch you.Forgive me for being inpatient.” 

“Nothing to forgive.I’ve missed you, too.Calls are nothing next to this, and I hate always having pretend you’re my girlfriend.” 

“I wonder if I could buy some congressmen and senators, get Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell overturned?” Harold mused.“That would solve at least _one_ problem.” 

“ _Buy_ —“

“I’m only joking,” Harold interrupted.“It would take a national ad campaign as well as a shift in how our entire society views homosexual relationships for that plan to work.That’s beyond my capabilities, with all the work I have on my plate.” 

“What _do_ you have on your plate?” 

“We’ve been getting ready for a rollout of a new operating system to rival Apple and Microsoft, and so far the beta testing has gone well, but when I get back it’s the final push to get it out before either company does the same.” 

“How long is the push?”

“Our target date is the first week of May, to give the public just enough time to want it before Father’s Day.” 

“That’s a month and a half!You better make sure you sleep,” he chided.Harold chuckled. 

“I remember that nurse, Monica, saying the same thing to me when we were in Germany,” Harold said. 

“That’s right, you were working on that flight program.How’s it going?” 

“Our part is finished for now, or at least the part that I need to oversee.I _am_ capable of having several projects at once, you know.” 

“It’s been seven years and three tours since I joined the army,” John said, changing the subject.“Five years abroad.Somehow, I didn’t think that defending my country meant I’d be away from it so much.” 

“At least two of them were shorter,” Harold replied.“Do you know when you’ll be transferred back?” 

“Soon, I hope.I’m coming up on three years, counting the convalescence.” 

“Have we met the obligation of social niceties yet?” Harold demanded, suddenly intense.John knew and liked that look.It meant Harold was thinking about sex.“My hotel is around the corner and —“

John downed the last of his beer and got to his feet. 

.

.

.


	5. September 11, 2001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold and John are vacationing in Mexico when the unthinkable happens.

John returned from the pool to find Harold face down in bed, snoring.He gingerly sat down and ran his hands over Harold’s back, shoulder blades and buttocks.He continued down Harold’s thighs and calves, ending with a small tickle on each foot.Harold murmured in his sleep but didn’t wake. 

Harold had been running more often and for longer distances in the year they’d both been in the States and his legs showed the greater dedication with more definition to his muscles.Probably wanted to keep up with John, he mused, who was in the prime of his life and had never felt stronger or more sure of himself.John smiled, stroking Harold’s buttocks again.He gently spread his cheeks. 

What would happen if he leaned over and —

“Stop that,” Harold protested sleepily, swatting John’s hand away.He rolled to his front and covered his eyes with the back of his hand.“Nothing doing until after dinner,” he said, waving John away with his other hand.“Besides, you smell like the pool,” he grumbled. 

“I know, I know, you don’t like the taste of chlorine,” John said with a laugh.“Continue your nap while I clean up,” he added, kissing Harold quickly. 

Harold had sprawled out over the entire bed as he slept, John discovered after his shower, his legs spread wide and his arms outflung.Again, he sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands over Harold’s body.There were some gray hairs on Harold’s chest, and three brilliant white pubes poking out of his bush.He noticed them earlier in the vacation, of course, but now with time to look and sunlight streaming in through the windows, he counted.Had Harold been plucking them before, or had he spontaneously grown them over the course of their most recent monthlong separation? 

Harold would be forty-two at his next birthday.John wasn’t yet thirty. 

John cupped Harold’s belly, feeling the slight expansion of beginning middle-age and a desk job.A desk job that sometimes lasted ten or more hours a day, he reminded himself.He sighed and moved his hand to rest on Harold’s dick. 

How soon would it be before Harold couldn’t keep up with him sexually?How long before Harold couldn’t get it up, not because of recent sex but because his body just wouldn’t make it happen?He never minded when Harold used dildos, though he preferred Harold’s dick, but would they be making more and more of an appearance in the bedroom? 

He returned to stroking Harold’s chest and stomach. 

God, he missed the man!A long weekend here, ten days there, it just wasn’t enough time.He wanted more.He wanted to know what it was like to bicker in the grocery store, to go on a road trip because they didn’t have to fly to make the most out of the limited time they had, to greet each other in person every night so he could complain about Harold’s long hours not because he missed one of their phone calls but because he missed the dinner John cooked.He wanted the time to learn to cook. 

Even this trip wasn’t enough, when they spent almost all their time together — much of it in bed — and neither of them had to work.John used his passable Spanish to chat up the concierge and make sure they had all the supplies they’d need, and Harold took great delight in using his own slightly-better Spanish to order food and make the waitstaff and other hotel employees happy — Cancun was a tourist-trap, and most of the Americans they saw at this exclusive resort didn’t even attempt to say ‘hello’ in Spanish, let alone anything more complicated.They talked and read books and swam and Harold tried to teach him chess, but Mah Jong was John’s game, so Harold read three strategy books one afternoon and was soon running away with the wins. 

He thought about how much time he’d actually spent in Harold’s physical presence versus how much time he spent talking to or thinking about the man and the math depressed him. 

“What are you thinking about so intently?” Harold asked.John looked over to see that Harold’s eyes were open, shining blue and laser-focused on him. 

“You’re getting older,” John answered. 

“We’re both getting older,” Harold replied.He sat up and arranged a pillow behind himself, so John did the same, taking Harold’s hand once they were settled.“You seem sad, though.Or at least contemplative.” 

“Our lives are so complicated. _Seeing_ each other is complicated.”He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.“We’ve been doing this long distance thing for close to six years.I’ve spent most of my career missing you — even those first years before we reconnected I thought of you all the time.Every time I open new orders, I get worried that they’ll send me away again and I won’t be able to see you, and I hate the idea.I want a life with you.To live with you.To see if it’s more than just the excitement of time and distance and sex that keeps us together.” 

He looked over to see Harold staring at him, at a loss for words. 

“I want to celebrate our anniversary _together_ for a change,” he added.“And I know this trip is supposed to be that, but it’s not our actual anniversary until the end of the month.I don’t want to miss the actual day.I don’t want to be in a place where I forget how important you are to me.I love you, Harold, and I don’t say it enough, and I certainly don’t act like it sometimes.I want to make up for those mistakes.I want to make it better.” 

“But, the army,” Harold said, bewildered.“You have to go back on Sunday.” 

“Harold, it’s already Tuesday,” John said. 

“Tuesday?What?How did I not notice?We must have missed our flights.The army —“

“I quit the army.I want to move to New York, live with you, see what can happen when we have a real life together.Even the inevitable messes and fights.I want that.” 

Harold blinked, then blinked again.John could see the gears turning in his head as he processed all John had been saying.Slowly, comprehension dawned.His lips turned up. 

Harold beamed, his face filling with joy.“John, really?” he breathed.“You want that?” 

“Every bit of it,” John declared.He felt his grin splitting his face, stretching his cheeks with happiness.“We can even be out as a couple,” he added.“If you wanted.” 

“ _If_ I wanted,” Harold repeated.“ _Of course_ I want —“

Their eyes met and held, and before John knew what was happening, Harold started kissing him, caressing him, crawling into his lap and riding him hard until they both came, proving quite handily that he wouldn’t be having any trouble keeping up with John in the near future after all. 

“This calls for a celebration,” Harold said breathlessly, sliding to his side next to John. 

John was reaching for the phone to order more tequila when it rang shrilly, startling them out of the warm afternoon and mellow afterglow. 

“Please put Harold on the line,” Nathan said, nothing of the usual easygoingness that had developed over the years in his voice.John thought he knew shock when he heard it.“And you’d better turn on the tv.” 

He was met with images of his time at war.Buildings aflame, people dying, chaos. 

“It was a plane?” Harold asked into the phone, his voice soft, scared.“Two planes.Oh.What are we — Yes, yes, of course.No, I don’t think anyone will be flying into New York in the foreseeable future.I’ll charter a plane to somewhere else, hire a car, get us back as soon as possible.”Harold paused, listening.“I think I have an idea.I’ll share it with you when we’re back.” 

Harold hung up the phone and moved to sit next to John at the foot of the bed staring intently at the news, who threw an arm around him and pulled him close. 

“Terrorists attacked Manhattan,” John whispered.“Manhattan!” 

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry, Harold.I’ll protect you,” John promised, kissing the top of his head.He looked over at his uniform jacket hanging off the back of a chair and frowned to himself.He hadn’t intended to wear it again…

Maybe there was something else he could do?Something in New York?He was sure Harold would have contacts, connections… He had a lot of skills, and many of them could translate to civilian life.Hell, that’s what he’d been contemplating already.That’s what he _planned_ to do. 

He kissed Harold’s head again.They held each other silently until Harold shook himself out of his stupor and started making arrangements for their return to New York. 

.

.

.


	6. The CIA Years: 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's en route to meet his new handler, Kara Stanton.

“John?”

John turned at the sound of his name from beloved lips, still raising his coffee to his mouth.Harold stood ten feet away.He set his coffee down and faced Harold and the sadness in his eyes.Sadness John had put there by his own actions, he knew.Sadness he could never take away. 

“Harold.Hi.” 

There was an awkward pause, then both stepped forward before stopping abruptly, now four feet apart. 

“You’re not in your uniform,” Harold commented. 

“I got a new job,” John admitted.“Hush hush.Can’t talk about it.” 

Harold closed his eyes as he nodded.His entire demeanor was sadness, regret, exhaustion.“Me, too.” 

John’s mouth continued working, even as his brain mulled over the statement, wondering what Harold could have gotten himself into.Was he contracting with the government again?Was he writing computer programs for the CIA?Was there a chance they’d cross paths in the hall at Langley, neither expecting to see the other?He latched onto the only thing that was safe to ask that he could come up with.“Are you still in New York?” 

“Don’t think I’ll ever leave, now,” Harold said softly. 

Not Langley, then.Good. 

“I should —“

“Do you want to get coffee?Or a drink?” Harold blurted, talking over him, taking a step forward, hopeful.“I’d like to catch up.It’s been five years.” 

“I gotta go,” John said reluctantly, knowing he was pouring salt into Harold’s wound.He had a job, though, and having a boyfriend or lover was against the rules, even if Harold would take him back.“Flight to catch.” 

The lie felt like ash on his tongue.He was, in fact, waiting for a contact, the person who would give him his next set of orders, send him to the next location where he’d hopefully have someone to work with for a little while.The loneliness ate away at him, otherwise. 

He needed a handler, his most recent supervisor had said.Someone to tell him what to do in the immediate moment, from nearby, not just from afar.The man was probably right…

Harold frowned but didn’t respond for a moment.He looked up, his face suddenly serious.“I waited for you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to.” 

“No, no, you didn’t.You just left, thinking you’d get killed over there.Never returned my calls, my letters, emails… you just up and left!” 

“It’s easier, not having someone to worry about,” John said.“It’s easier on you, not being tied down.” 

“That never took away _my_ worry,” Harold protested.“I waited, John.I never gave up.I _wanted_ to be tied down!There’s a place for you in New York.A place in my life.You wanted that, once, too.” _Briefly,_ Harold didn’t say, though the word hung in the air between them. 

“There’s one thing you learn over there, Harold.Everyone dies alone.And no one’s coming to save you.” 

Harold’s eyes blazed with anger.“That’s bullshit.You just couldn’t handle how close we were getting.You wouldn’t stay to talk about it.You refused to listen to anything I might have said!You tucked tail and ran like a coward,” Harold declared. 

John took a step towards him, intending to intimidate him, but Harold stood his ground and glared up at him. 

John swallowed past the sudden tightness of his throat.Harold was _so close…_

He smelled Harold’s aftershave, the extra expensive one John once said was his favorite, and Harold made sure to wear it every time they saw each other after that.He could touch him, kiss him, drop to his knees and beg his way back into Harold’s life…

No, he couldn’t do any of those things.He had a job, a duty. 

“But that would take real courage, wouldn’t it?” Harold asked, startling John out of a haze of memories brought on by his closeness and scent.“It would be a real risk to stay and listen and talk things through.” 

“I had to protect —“

“I loved you!I still love you!Tell me to wait, and I will.Tell me to wait, take that risk with me, and —“

“Don’t ask that of me!” John hissed.“You know I can’t —“

“Your new job has Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, too?” Harold sneered.“Please.I know better than that.” 

John clamped his jaw shut, narrowing his eyes.He looked over Harold more closely, sizing him up.Expensive suit.No briefcase or travel suitcase.Bags under his eyes that his glasses magnified.He glanced at Harold’s hand; no ring.At least one thing was good in this fucked-up meeting: Harold wasn’t married.Or didn’t wear a ring, at any rate. 

“Tell me you’ll come home to me,” Harold pleaded.“Tell me you’ll come home to me and I’ll move mountains to help you!I can get you out of whatever’s holding you back.You know what I have at my disposal.Tell me to wait for you and I will!” he repeated, desperate, begging.“You don’t need this job,” he continued.“You don’t need a job that will use you and abuse you and suck your soul dry.There are so many others out there.Please,” he finished.“Please, John.” 

John froze, staring at Harold.How could he ask that?How could he still want John, after the way he’d abandoned him for “the greater good” with no warning and no negotiation and no apology?He’d been ignoring Harold’s attempts at communication ever since.Then he’d gone to the Farm and let go of his name and past and any connection to Harold or anyone else. 

How could he talk of getting John out of his job?No one left the CIA except on their terms or in a body bag.Not even Harold’s billions could extract him, even if he wanted to leave, which he didn’t.He’d finally found something he excelled at.He wasn’t about to throw away the opportunity. 

Wait, did Harold _know_? 

No, there was no way for Harold to find out he worked for the CIA.No way.He was just assuming danger, knowing John’s history, hearing John call it “hush hush.” 

Before him, Harold’s shoulders slumped and the fire went out of his eyes. 

“That would be too much of a risk, wouldn’t it?” he said sadly, resigned.“Goodbye, John.” 

John felt the world crack around him, like in a movie.Nothing would ever be the same if he let Harold go.Nothing would ever be _right_ if he let Harold go…

“Wait —“ John whispered, staring after Harold’s retreating back.He took a step towards him, but Harold was already lost in the crowd.“Harold, wait for me —“

.

.

.

“When you were in transit, did you meet any old friends?” his new handler, Stanton, asked. 

“No,” John answered, keeping his face calm, betraying nothing.It was immediately clear that she didn’t believe him. 

“We know about the ex-boyfriend,” Kara said, handing John an envelope.He opened it, dread making his stomach sink.He knew what he’d find: a stack of photos.Him and Harold in the airport three days ago.Harold sitting behind a desk talking to Nathan, _Harold Wren, Chief Technical Officer_ on the brass placard in front of him.Harold in his Central Park apartment, Chinese takeout forgotten on the table as he crouched forward over his laptop — 

All the pictures were dated within the last three days… a small mercy.All of them referenced Harold _Wren_ and his primary Central Park apartment, not the other addresses or names John knew.John sighed internally that at least some of Harold’s secrets seemed to be safe.He had no idea what they _really_ knew, and he’d have to do some snooping to find out, to make sure they didn’t have something incriminating to hold over them both. 

“Like I told you, there’s no line, no safety.You never go back,” Stanton finished.“You see old friends, you don’t know them.We’re walking in the dark here, you understand?” 

John kept his expression as still as possible.He knew a threat when he heard one. 

.

.

.


	7. The CIA Years: 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has some R&R in New York.

“John?Is that you?” 

John raised his head from the drink in his hand, unable to stop himself because of the vaguely familiar voice — he’d have to work on that.He wasn’t supposed to do things like that any longer, and if Kara found out, he’d be in for another of her “lessons.”He blinked, startled to find Harold’s friend Nathan standing next to him — this wasn’t the kind of fancy bar he used to prefer when John knew him. 

“It is!Are you meeting Harold?He didn’t tell me you were in town.”Nathan waved at the bartender for a drink, indicating to pay for John’s as well.He clearly came here often,as the bartender just set something down next to him and a new drink in front of John as well. 

John swallowed the scotch already in his mouth.His lips twitched in an approximation of a smile.His muscles weren’t used to smiling any more.“Didn’t know I’d be here,” he answered, his eyes scanning the room.In the mirror above the bar he thought he saw the shape of Kara Stanton in the crowd by the pool table.“Six hour layover,” he added, cursing internally that he hadn’t noticed that she’d been following him.He was better than that, damnit!Please don’t let it be another lesson… “No time to see old friends,”he added for Nathan’s benefit. 

“That’s no excuse,” Nathan declared, pulling out a phone.“He’ll want to see you anyway.In fact, I can’t believe he’s not here!Doesn’t he usually send someone to pick you up at the airport?” 

Seeing Kara moving towards him, John reached out and put a hand on Nathan’s forearm before he could lift the phone. 

“You know we broke up, right?” 

Nathan’s face froze briefly in shock, then softened into disbelief.“Nonsense!He would’ve told me.” 

“Years ago,” John said firmly.“After 9/11.” 

Nathan shook his head decisively and pulled his arm free.“It’s cruel to joke about that,” he muttered, walking away.He dialed and held the phone to his ear. 

“What did I say about old friends?” Kara asked, slipping into the seat Nathan had just vacated. 

“I was here for an hour before he happened to show up,” John protested. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Kara responded.“Our bosses don’t care about details like that.They’ll just know you made contact.You want the ex to stay alive, you get up with me and leave before blondie over there gets back.” 

John hesitated, his eyes on Nathan through the window onto the street and the intensity of his conversation.Nathan was upset, yelling into his phone — yelling at Harold, no doubt, who must have confirmed that they’d broken up.How could Nathan not know?He was Harold’s best friend.Had Harold simply stopped talking about him?Or made up lies and pretended they were still together? 

“Do you really think your ex will take you back, knowing what you’ve been doing? What you’ve done?What you’re doing by being _here_?” 

John frowned, something else clicking into place. _Kara_ would be the one to tell their bosses. _Kara_ would be the one to throw him under the bus unless he did something to prevent it.What could he give her?What would get her to —

Sex.Kara wanted sex.She wanted _him_ to initiate.It had been weeks since he’d initiated, leaving it up to her to decide when they were going to do it, his minuscule attempt at protesting a sexual relationship he didn’t want but knew he’d have to maintain if he was going to keep his job. 

What would Harold say, knowing he was whoring himself out to her?Would he even consider being with John again after he’d sullied himself so? 

No, Harold wouldn’t.There was no way. 

Kara was still talking. 

“I get it.My first time back, I went to my parents house.I knew that if I walked in there, they’d forgive me anything. But I couldn’t knock on that door.Do you know why?I said we walked in the dark, but that’s not really true.We _are_ the dark.We’re the dark we’re protecting them from.” She paused.“You know it’s true,” she said.Her smile became her most cruel.“Besides, the Agency hasn’t hesitated to kill prominent figures before, and he’s just some tech guy.Not even the CEO.” 

John drained his drink in one swallow and got up, pushing himself away from the bar.She was right, damn it.There was no way Harold would accept that he’d become a killer.A soldier who had to kill, yes, but a cold-blooded killer, following orders whether they were on foreign soil or domestic?No, Harold wouldn’t accept that. 

And he wouldn’t accept what John had to do with Kara. 

He slipped out the back before Nathan returned and found him gone, following Kara into the shadows that felt like home. 

.

.

.

“Where are you going, lover?” Kara asked as John buttoned his fly.He didn’t bother to glance in her direction as he answered. 

“To get dick.” 

“You should have told me,” Kara said in the voice John hated more than most.“We could have —“

“To _suck_ dick,” he interrupted, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it into place after toweling off.“Sorry, Kara, that’s not something you can help with.”He paused.“Unless you want to watch?” 

She made a disgusted sound and rolled to face away from him.He finished dressing silently and left the hotel. 

Walking around Midtown Manhattan, he found himself drawn to the darkness.He lingered in alleys where streetlights didn’t reach.He thought about his life and the choices he made.He thought about Harold. 

He started walking again. 

At one in the morning he went into a small corner bodega and came out with a pack of cigarettes, a cheap Bic lighter, and a prepaid flip phone.He sat on a bench across from a chain hotel and lit up.He wasn’t used to smoking, but he found that his lungs didn’t mind the addition of poison.The rest of him was poisoned enough, he mused. 

He flipped open the phone, feeling the buttons with his thumb.There was a certain comfort in having buttons to press, where smartphones simply had the touch screen.With this phone, he could dial a number by feel. 

“Yes?” 

John slammed the phone closed, panicked.He’d actually called —

The phone rang in his hand.He stared at it until it stopped, his breath coming quickly and shallowly.The cigarette he held burned to ash and he dropped the filter from nerveless fingers. 

The phone beeped, indicating a text message. 

_I’ll be there in 30 minutes._

“I’ll be there…” did that mean that — that — _Harold —_

John shut his eyes and lowered his head to his hands.He pressed the heels of his hands to his closed eyelids until he saw swirling, flashing colors and felt light-headed. 

“Fuck,” he breathed.“Fuck.” 

.

.

.

Lost in his own misery, John didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. 

“John.” 

John looked up, seeing Harold standing next to him.He tried to say something, but his voice wouldn’t work.Harold plucked the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers and took a puff, then another, flicking off the ash before taking a final one.He neatly placed it in the ashtray John hadn’t noticed at his elbow. 

“I thought you gave those up,” he manages to croak. 

“I did, but I’ll need at least a little nicotine on my tongue to comfortably kiss you after the five you’ve had,” Harold responded, indicating the butts on the ground at John’s feet.“Would you like to do that here, or in the room?” 

“That’s a pretty big assumption,” John protested. 

Harold’s lips twitched.He cupped the back of John’s head and leaned down, brushing his lips over John’s forehead.John sat there, frozen in place.Harold used his second hand to tilt John’s head up.Harold’s lips were dry against his, but they were Harold’s lips, and he was suddenly very grateful he’d showered before leaving Kara for more than just getting her scent off him. 

“I’ll be inside when you’re ready,” Harold murmured, caressing his face and turning to cross the street to the hotel.John watched him go, wanting to run, to leave, to get away from making any kind of decision at all. 

But the truth was that he’d made the decision as soon as he saw Nathan at the bar earlier.He would see Harold.He would probably fuck Harold.Or Harold would fuck him.Either way. 

A sign on the window proclaimed that the bar was open until three.He glanced at his watch.Good, he had time. 

“Scotch,” he barked at the bartender.“On the rocks.” 

“If you’ll sign, please,” the bartender said, offering a check.John looked up to see a small tray with a top-shelf bottle of scotch and two glasses filled with ice on the bartop in front of him.“Room 1402,” the man added, slipping a keycard forward across the smooth wood.“You don’t want to keep him waiting,” he added. 

Obediently, he scrawled a name on the paper and added 1402. 

When he got to the elevator he realized that a keycard was required for it to move, which is why Harold left it for him.Carrying the tray, he walked slowly down the hall.What would he face when he got there?What kind of mood would Harold be in?What would they talk about?What would they _do_? 

Since he had the card, he didn’t bother knocking. 

Harold looked — good.Tired, but good.He sat on the small couch with a book in his hand and a smartphone at his elbow.They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking.John walked in and set the tray down, pouring for them both.They clinked glasses and took sips.John didn’t sit down. 

He took a more careful look around the room and realized that Harold’s phone was in pieces — the battery and SIM card were next to it.The hotel phone and TV had been unplugged.He took out his own phone and removed the battery and SIM card, then did the same with the new flip phone.He pulled out the three bugs and two miniature cameras he carried around and dropped them to the floor, crushing them under his heel. 

Harold nodded in approval and took another sip of the scotch. 

“Why did you lie to Nathan?” 

“I hoped you would come back,” Harold answered.He put down his drink and stood.“I wanted to pretend you were still mine.”John backed up as Harold stepped forward until he ran into the bed with the back of his legs.“Are you, John?Is even a small part of you still mine?” 

The longing in Harold’s eyes matched that in John’s soul, and there was only one possible response.John dropped his glass and grabbed the sides of Harold’s head, raising his face so they could kiss.Harold responded eagerly. 

“I can get you out, you know,” Harold said conversationally, running hands over John’s clothed body when he returned, minty-fresh from brushing his teeth — Harold’s requirement for more than a few kisses.He kissed the side of John’s neck.“I can make it so you never existed, never joined up with them, never needed to run.I can make it so they’ll never find you.” 

“No one can do that,” John protested, shrugging out of his jacket and moving to undo the buttons of his shirt.Harold helped, getting John naked in near record time. 

“ _I_ can,” Harold declared.He shoved John down on the bed, following him though he was still fully-clothed.“I can and I will.You just have to trust me.” 

John shook his head.“No, no one can.Not even you!” 

Harold swallowed his dick. 

“Fuck,” he gasped.Harold chuckled.He took off his glasses and John took them without thinking, the habit so ingrained.He folded them and put them on the nightstand while Harold sucked, allowing himself a moment to feel content.This was how it was supposed to be. 

John’s body remembered Harold and responded — so quickly that he had to pull Harold off or risk coming far too soon.He only had one more orgasm left after fucking Kara, and he wanted to make it count. 

He rolled them over and took his time undressing Harold, kissing and teasing and caressing him.Once they were both naked, they made out and rutted against each other.John reveled in the feeling of freedom, of desire, of love — he felt Harold’s love in every touch, every gasp, every tiny movement and tug of his hair. 

They didn’t need to talk for this part. 

Harold prepared him carefully, making sure that John was comfortable and enjoying himself.He slipped into John easily and took him with confident strokes, hitting his prostate and bringing him higher with each thrust.Tears ran unchecked down John’s cheeks as he came.Harold kissed his closed eyelids and wiped his face, adding more kisses wherever he could. 

“They’re going to kill you, Harold,” John said when he felt able to talk again.“They know who you are.They know who Nathan is.They know I saw him tonight and they can track my phone.They know I was here.They’ll be able to see the CCTV footage and see you.” 

“No, they won’t.I already hacked your phone and rewrote the gps data since you left your — partner, I assume?The CCTV will be child’s play.I’ve been up against bigger threats than the CIA.I’m safe from them, and you would be, too, if you stayed with me.”John tensed in his arms.“Honestly, who else could it be?The Mafia?You’re too principled.They probably told you that your country needed you, said no one else would do, claimed it was your duty, called you a patriot, a hero, some kind of mind trick to get you to abandon who you were and kill for a living.” 

John shook his head and frowned, cuddling closer, feeling small next to his lover, despite his greater size.He wanted it to be true.He wanted Harold to get him out, to be able to get him out.He wanted to run. 

He wanted this night with Harold to last the rest of his life. 

“How do you know so much?” John whispered.He sat up on his elbow to look into Harold’s eyes. 

“Because this is a dream, John,” Kara said. 

John woke in a cold sweat.Beside him, Kara hiccuped and rolled over. 

.

.

.


	8. 2011: Post-Ordos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has survived Ordos. Now what?

It took John nearly a month to get back to civilization after the shitstorm at Ordos.The bullet wound had healed by then, and there had been antibiotics in the emergency pack he managed to take with him, but he was in a sorry state.He knew what happened to retired spies who turned up on American soil. 

Filthy as he was, he couldn’t walk into regular society, even to buy food.He found the headline while going through a dumpster in the American section of town, where the food was often better, fresher and more plentiful, especially in this area of the world. 

_Tech Billionaire and Founder of IFT, Nathan Ingram, Dies in Terrorist Bombing._

John’s blood went cold and he scanned the rest of the article quickly.There was no mention of Harold.No news could mean good news, he mused, but with his luck he wouldn’t bet on it.In fact, he wouldn’t put it past the CIA to stage the whole thing as a way to punish him for failing to kill Kara, if they knew about his surviving, or as incentive to kill her…They knew who Harold was — at least partly.They knew his connection with Ingram.Killing Nathan would be step one.Killing Harold would be their final trump card, the only thing keeping him from turning on them…

He read the article more closely and noticed the date — October 1, 2010 — months _before_ he’d been sent to China.Maybe it _didn’t_ have anything to do with him.Maybe Harold was alive and well —

He felt hope rising in his chest. 

He found a payphone and let his fingers dial the calling card number from fifteen years ago.He’d used it often enough over the years to call Harold when he didn’t have cell service, and it never seemed to run out of money, no matter how many times they’d talked.There was still a balance even though he hadn’t used it in nine years.He punched in Harold’s number, the number that always connected, no matter where Harold was, closing his eyes to pray for Harold’s voice on the other end of the line. 

_This number has been disconnected.No forwarding information._

John slammed the phone down, breathing heavily.It couldn’t be.Harold couldn’t be — He tried again with the same results.He didn’t have Harold’s IFT contact info, and he didn’t have access to a computer or the internet.He’d have to go in person. 

He had to get to New York to find out what was really going on. 

Getting back to the States took a lot more effort when he didn’t have the resources of the CIA or Army behind him.He stowed away in a trans-pacific delivery service cargo plane, using a small flashlight to read customs labels in the back, away from the pilots.Fortunately there was no ride-along supervisor, and he had relatively free rein.Fortunately, most of the labels were in English, so he was able to find useful items.Including a suit that fit well enough.Shoes would be a problem, but he could get those easily back on home territory. 

He didn’t have any buried stashes in California, but he was able to pick a few pockets and acquire a credit card and a matching driver’s license with a signature he could fake that looked enough like him so that he was able to rent a car.Driving across the country in late January took a toll on his stamina, especially when he switched cars every few hundred miles to keep everyone off his scent.By the time he made it to New York he was exhausted, bleary-eyed and ready to fall over. 

He knew he couldn’t turn up at IFT looking for Harold as he was, so he unearthed his emergency money and slept for 6 hours.Dressed in a halfway decent suit and freshly-shaved, he approached the IFT building. 

There was a bronze bust of Nathan in the lobby, _Founder_ stenciled into the plate underneath.All of the Executive offices were on the top floor.He took the elevator.As it rose slowly, he wondered why he hadn’t looked up Harold on the internet in all the time he’d been back stateside.He frowned at his reflection in the mirrored doors.He wanted Harold to be alive, he decided.Alive and working in his office, ready to stand up and greet John with a smile and a hug and maybe even a punch in the face he definitely deserved.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but Mr. Wren died, about two months ago, from injuries sustained in the ferry bombing,” Harold’s secretary said. 

John knew his face must have drained of color because she rushed to her feet and steered him to a chair, bringing water.He noticed his hands shaking as he tried to lift the paper cup.Water sloshed onto his wrist. 

.

.

.

Harold’s grave was unremarkable.Just a simple granite headstone with his name and the dates of his birth and death, seeing it tore a hole in what was left of John’s heart.He collapsed to his knees and stared. 

There were fresh flowers on the grave, only a day or two old. 

With the hindsight of his CIA training, John could look back over what he knew about Harold in a different way than when he was twenty-four and high on sex and half in love.Harold had a dozen apartments, all with different names attached to them.He was hiding, running.Was that even his real birthday?Probably not, though it was the one he’d told John. 

Who _was_ Harold?Would he ever find out? 

Did it matter, with him lying six feet under? 

The sun was slanting into his eyes from the west when he felt a hand on his shoulder.He looked up with tearstained cheeks to see a red-haired woman smiling kindly down at him. 

“Did you know Harold?” she asked, crouching down next to him.“I didn’t see you at the funeral.” 

John cleared his throat.“A long time ago,” he said.“I hadn’t heard until today.”He pulled a faded blue handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. 

“I’m Grace.”She extended a hand and he shook it mechanically.“Harold’s fiancee,” she added. 

“Fiancee,” John repeated in a broken voice. 

“We’d been engaged less than two weeks,” Grace said, and suddenly she was crying, sobbing, holding her hand over her mouth.John took her in his arms and held her to his chest. 

“How did you know him?” she asked later, when they sat at a small shop that specialized in organic, fair-trade teas that Grace informed him had been one of Harold’s favorites.John hadn’t had the heart to leave her alone after her crying jag, and when she invited him, he couldn’t say no. 

“We, uh, we met when I was in the army, almost twenty years —“

“John,” she said in a cold voice, interrupting him.Her entire demeanor changed in front of his eyes, becoming hostile.“You’re John, aren’t you?The man who broke his heart.” 

“I —“

“No, I don’t want to hear it.You almost destroyed him, his trust in people.It took _years_ for him to trust me because of you!” 

“I told him not to wait for me!” John barked, getting to his feet.His hands balled into fists at his sides.“I _told_ him…”He folded back into his chair, head down.“I told him,” he whispered. 

They sat in silence for a long time, until Grace broke it. 

“If you need to visit his grave again, please do it before noon,” she said.She stood and walked away, leaving him with his grief. 

.

.

.

It took weeks to search out all of Harold’s aliases and addresses that John remembered.There was no trace of him at any of them.None of the apartments belonged to Harold any longer.The Central Park apartment had become a movie set.The building in the Village had been turned into coop housing.All three Brooklyn brownstones were owned by young couples, two of whom had kids.The entire building in Queens where Harold had an apartment had been demolished and fancy condos were being built in its place. 

He spent hours in the library on the computers searching for mention of Harold or his aliases, anything, and the only thing he found was the tiny obituary Grace wrote that had been the first news item he’d found.It was as if Harold had systematically erased every digital mention of himself.Though going to the MIT library and looking up old yearbooks _did_ turn up a single picture of Harold and a blurb about how he graduated top of his class, there was no mention of him in any other hard copy he could find. 

Finding deeds and going through public records didn’t give any more information than the internet had.The only paper records he could find were the purchase and sale of the Central Park apartment — and the purchase of the Washington Square address a year ago where Grace now lived and which she owned.None of the other Harolds existed. 

Records on Nathan Ingram were everywhere, confirming everything John knew about the man, so plentiful that John ignored them after a few days when he realized that there was no mention of Harold in any of them. 

He called Harold’s number again and again, hoping for something other than the disconnection message.He called IFT and no matter who he talked to, the message was the same: Mr. Wren had died.He broke into their HR department and discovered that all the paper files on Harold had mysteriously disappeared and the digital files were corrupted. 

He even broke into the local police department to see if there were records of his death.He found mention of a coroner’s report, but he couldn’t find it anywhere.Any and all hospital records had also been deleted or removed.He couldn’t find out which doctor declared Harold dead, or which one took care of him before that or even which hospital he’d been admitted to after the bombing. 

He wasn’t good enough with computers to hack the FBI or CIA or Pentagon, so he had nowhere else to look. 

He thought about stalking Grace, but after a week he gave it up — her obvious grief made his worse and he stopped being able to follow her or risk revealing himself and begging for scraps of information about Harold and their relationship and the years John missed because of his own stupidity. 

.

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.

Time lost its meaning.John shuffled through the days and nights, drinking, wandering, losing what little will to live he possessed after what the CIA had done to him.Losing Harold broke him in a way he never thought he’d be able to experience.This was worse than when he left Harold — worse even than watching him walk away in that airport… His heart wasn’t just broken, it was empty, a void filled with loneliness and regret.He didn’t care where he was, he didn’t care what was going on around him.All he cared about was the bottle in his hand and drinking enough to forget. 

It took a lot of alcohol to forget. 

…the fear in Harold’s eyes when he handed him the cell phone Harold bought him and told him that he’d be rejoining the military and they needed to break up.He’d only been in New York two and a half months, John helping with the search for people and bodies at Ground Zero and Harold ensconced behind a computer screen, day and night.They’d barely spoken in that time, let alone made love — hadn’t _touched_ since they got back from Mexico — but the devastation on Harold’s face nearly broke him, nearly changed his mind.His arguments that he was leaving _for_ Harold, for all the people of the United States, that he was going to _protect_ Harold, like he promised in Mexico… that he needed Harold to be free, so he’d know Harold would be ok without him, that he could find another partner if he wanted…

…the last, desperate, wild sex in Harold’s Central Park apartment —the last time they’d touch, _ever_ —, Harold begging… _please, John, please, don’t leave me, we can find a way for you to protect people here, I know we can, so please stay, I promise I’ll be a better boyfriend, I’ll work less, I’ll give you anything, do anything, just stay with me, please, please don’t leave me alone…_

He woke up from his stupor when a kid on the subway tried to take his booze.Hitting something felt good, and he probably took it too far, but who was he to care? 

Old habits died hard, though, and he was unable to keep from casing the police station they brought him to.He watched with amusement as the detective made a show of taking his fingerprints.He wondered if he should worry, but decided that a bullet in the head from the CIA was easier to take than doing it himself.At least with the CIA he wouldn’t see it coming. 

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	9. 2011: New Mission, New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fancy lawyer bailed John out of jail. Now he goes to meet his mysterious benefactor.

As soon as John got out of the expensive car and realized where he was, his fingertips started tingling.He put it down to withdrawal and shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached the figure standing by the bench. 

Something about the figure was familiar, though he couldn’t place it.Might as well see what this mysterious benefactor wanted.He stepped closer.

“I hope I don’t owe you money,” he called as he came within earshot.“I’m a little short right now.” 

The figure turned to face him. 

“You don’t owe me anything, John,” Harold said, his expression closed, his voice painfully neutral.“Or should I say, Mr. Reese?That’s the name you prefer these days, isn’t it?”John stopped short, staring.“Yes, I know that name,” Harold continued.“I’ve been watching your career, of course.”Harold turned back to look over the water, the movement stilted from what appeared to be a recent injury.“I know you met Grace, and with your background I trust you understand why I had to do what I did in regards to her?” 

John swallowed.“To protect her,” he answered.“You faked your own death to protect her.” 

“Indeed.” 

“So what’s this about?” John asked.He clenched his fists in his pockets, hoping to get feeling back.The tingling intensified as blood rushed back into his fingers. 

“You have certain skills,” Harold said.“I would rather see you make use of them than die on the street.” 

“You want me to kill people?”

“On the contrary, I want you to save them.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Harold pulled a smartphone from his pocket and tossed it to John, who caught it awkwardly.“Meet me at the appointed time tomorrow and I’ll explain.Jim will give you the information.”Harold turned his back on him.John didn’t move. 

“Haro—“

“You may call me Mr. Finch,” Harold interrupted, not moving as he spoke. 

John knew a dismissal when he heard one, and the lack of emotion in Harold’s voice and face told him more than enough about their relationship.It was over.There was no chance of it returning.If he wanted to be close to Harold, in any way at all, he’d have to play along with whatever conspiracy theory playbook Harold was working from. 

At least Harold was alive. 

He took the cash and note with the meeting information from the bodyguard and left on foot.He had a lot of thinking to do. 

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.

.

There was enough cash to get a haircut and shave, a real meal, a motel bed for the night and a suit that wouldn’t embarrass Harold, even if it weren’t up to his usual standards, or even John’s CIA off-the-rack standards.He discovered quickly that Harold wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended, and John’s cleaned-up look earned him a thorough once-over.And an appointment with a tailor who simply put everything on Harold’s account and furnished John with an exorbitantly-priced entirely-bespoke wardrobe. 

At the end of the first day, Harold ordered him to a lavish loft in Midtown worth millions — his new home.Not where Harold slept.He had no idea where Harold slept and following him lead nowhere because somehow Harold could lose him around a cornerand to an admonishment to leave Harold to his privacy.It hurt his pride as a spy to lose someone who couldn’t walk fluidly — but this was Harold, and a part of him was jealous of his skills. 

So he wore the clothes Harold provided, slept in the bed in the apartment Harold gave him, ate when Harold told him to eat, and beat up bad guys on Harold’s orders. 

John became a kept man in an instant.Too bad it was about “work” and didn’t involve sex. 

He also learned that Harold was on a mission and their history was a moot point where the “numbers” were concerned, no matter how much John flirted.He wanted and expected a professional, so that’s what John gave him.Neither of them talked about the past.Nor did they talk about Nathan’s death or Harold’s physical injuries, whatever those were.John gave up flirting after a week of coldness and Harold ignoring anything unrelated to work.At least he let John procure his own ordnance. 

Learning about the Machine made John re-think the scene in the airport in 2006.If Harold had this kind of power and knowledge _now,_ after he’d closed off his access to the Machine… Harold had purposely found him and had already known that John was part of the CIA when they met.He’d probably been wanting to protect John from that life, he realized. 

How would his life be different if he’d taken Harold up on his offer?He’d never have met Kara, for one.He’d never have been sent to Ordos.Hell, he’d probably be the fiancee mourning Harold’s loss…

No, Harold would have told him about the Machine, he decided.With his military background he’d have been in Harold’s inner circle about that…

He hoped. 

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.

They’d been dancing around each other for three weeks when the kettle blew, as it were.On John’s birthday, which hadn’t been acknowledged.Harold left the safety of the Library to help a number’s family, and ended up in the line of fire to buy their freedom.His naiveté, endearing as it was next to John’s cynicism, felt like a punch in the gut when John arrived on the scene to see guns pointed at his former lover. 

John didn’t bother trying to hold back the way Harold would have wanted him to.He shot all three gunmen in the head. 

Fortunately, they were in a _very_ out of the way warehouse, and with the family gone in John’s (stolen) car, there was privacy for the confrontation that had been building since Harold dragged him from the gutter and claimed him for his mission. 

John holstered his weapon and advanced on Harold with purpose.His body was on fire, and from the flush on Harold’s cheeks, he figured it was the same for the other man.Nothing like combat to get the juices flowing. 

“Mr. Reese!You didn’t have to —“

“Call me that again and I’ll walk away,” John growled, pushing himself into Harold’s personal space so that their chests bumped together.Harold backed up, as John planned, and soon he was pressing himself against a Harold who was plastered to a brick wall with nowhere to go.Both of them were hard.For the first time since they met as Finch and Reese, Harold lost the staring contest. 

“Now, we have two options,” John continued, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated.“Either I fuck you right now, right here, or —“

Harold interrupted by taking option one, shoving his tongue into John’s mouth and throwing his arms around him.They ended up rolling around on the filthy floor, getting dust and grime all over their clothing, as John freed just enough of their anatomy to get the job done.Quick and fueled by pent-up anger and fear, Harold would be feeling it for several days.Spit just wasn’t a good enough lube, John mused, rubbing Harold’s release on his dick to ease the final few strokes until he came with a grunt. 

They lay there panting. 

“You better be clean,” Harold grumbled.“Neither of us has time for a venereal disease.” 

“Surprisingly, I am,” John answered, kissing Harold’s temple. 

“I wish I had a cigarette.” 

“You haven’t smoked in decades,” John pointed out. 

“No, but don’t you think the circumstances call for one?” 

John chuckled and dropped his head to Harold’s chest.“God, Harold, why?Why all this?Why the cloak and dagger?Do you trust me that little?” 

“You broke my heart once, choosing the army over me after building up my expectations,” Harold explained.“Then you did it again by choosing the CIA.I know they say that the third time’s the charm, but…”He trailed off.“No, I didn’t trust you.”He stroked John’s cheek and hair.“I _don’t_ trust you, not yet.I want to.”John shut his eyes, frowning to himself.“I still love you,” Harold added.“I’ve never stopped loving you.But love and trust don’t always go together.” 

“I didn’t trust you,” John whispered.“Not when it mattered in that airport.” 

“I didn’t exactly trust you, either.I could’ve said more.” 

“No, not and protect the Machine. You didn’t know who I’d become, what they’d already had me doing.” 

“I knew, John.I told you, I followed your career.But I didn’t know how you felt about it.I didn’t know if you liked the killing or not.” 

“I didn’t mind it, for the most part.I just didn’t want them to suffer, so I learned how to do it quickly.I thought I was doing my duty, what my country needed.What others couldn’t.” 

Harold sighed. 

“Your aliases…” 

“Harold Wren was my longest-running alias, my clean cover, so to speak, so it’s quite the hardship that he’s dead, but, well, I’ve been working on repurposing another to take Wren’s place.You realize that Finch isn’t my birth name, either, I assume?” 

“I suspected.Will you ever tell me?” 

“Unlikely.”Harold kissed him to take the sting out of the admission.“Harold, though, that’s the name my parents gave me.” 

“I’m sorry about Nathan,” John said softly after a moment of silence.“Truly.” 

“He — The government killed him because he was going to go public about the Machine.He didn’t think they were using it correctly, that they should have been helping the Irrelevant List as well.” 

“Why didn’t they go after you?” 

“The ruse was that I kept the rest of IFT running while he worked on the Machine and didn’t tell me about it.I’m not sure why they believed it, honestly, though I’m grateful they did.Still, it was safer for Wren to die, so…”Harold trailed off.After a few moments he shifted under John and grimaced. 

“Pain?” John wondered, leveraging himself up before offering Harold a hand to get to his feet.Harold ignored the hand and stood unassisted. 

“The concrete is hard,” Harold said in answer.He started brushing dirt off his suit. 

“I need to know what happened,” John insisted. 

Harold turned his body to glare at John and refused to answer. 

“You can’t turn your head, Harold.You have a limp.You’re clearly in pain.You’re not up for the fieldwork this job requires.I might be able to help you with some of that, but I need to know what’s wrong.” 

“What’s wrong is that I have three fused vertebra in my neck and an artificial hip that I neglected for several months before pushing too hard, too quickly,” Harold barked.“My best friend was murdered and it was _my_ fault!Can you fix that?” he continued, angry and not hesitating to show it. 

“I can help with PT and range of motion,” John answered calmly.Harold scowled and started walking back to the car.“Don’t you dare walk away from me again!” John shouted, rushing after him.He grabbed Harold’s shoulder and swung him around to face him.Harold’s eyes were red.A tear rolled down his cheek, making a small rivulet in the dirt already there.“Harold?” 

“Why did you have to _leave_?” Harold demanded, squeezing his eyes closed to halt the next wave of tears and only making them flow sooner.“I _waited!_ I waited five years for you!”He lashed out and punched John’s chest.“I _waited_!” he cried again.“How could you?” 

John took him in his arms and held him to his chest, rubbing his back and making soothing sounds in his ears as Harold let go and cried.They stood for twenty minutes while Harold vented ten years of heartbreak and sadness and anger.They stood silently for another ten minutes as they got used to being physically close.John decided there would be more outbursts like this — some of them from him — if they continued whatever they were doing, be it work, dating, or just fucking when the moment was right.He cleared his throat. 

“I love this new openness between us, Harold, but could we go somewhere else to keep talking?” John asked.“I think we could both use a shower.” 

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.

“What’s your refractory period these days?” 

“I’m not twenty any more!” John protested. 

“Neither am I,” Harold retorted.“But I’d like an idea of what we’re working with.” 

“I haven’t had occasion to find out in years,” John admitted.

“For me, eight to twelve hours, on average, unless there’s something particularly spicy going on.” 

“Like today,” John murmured, pleased that he’d been a part of the shorter wait.He nuzzled at Harold’s neck.“Spicy?” 

“Anal,” Harold explained.“Grace wasn’t a fan, so twice a year — Wren’s birthday and our anniversary — we’d do it.” 

“You were monogamous with her?” 

“We lived together for two years.It was something she wanted.I’ve gotten too old to want more than one person at a time.”Harold paused, and John waited for him to continue because he clearly hadn’t finished his thought.“I’d have considered making an exception for you, though I probably wouldn’t have done it.”He sighed.“No, there’s no reason to lie to myself any longer.I would’ve.You’ve always been my Kryptonite, as they say.” 

“How did you meet?” 

“The Machine kept giving me her number, when it wasn’t giving me updates on your whereabouts and activities.A few months after we saw each other in the airport, I took a chance and spoke to her.We were together three years.” 

“It gave you updates on me?” John demanded. 

“The Machine… In those days, the early days, back when I talked to it, trained it, it seemed to have a mind of its own, sometimes.It imprinted on me, like a bird will with its mother.It tried on several occasions to protect me from harm, and it reminded me of the anniversary of my father’s death.It asked why I didn’t go after you, when according to its logic, you were the ‘statistically most compatible’ partner for me.” 

“The Machine wanted us to be together,” John mused. 

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you talk to it any more?” 

“I closed the system so that I wouldn’t be tempted to access it once I handed it over to the government.” 

“But you kept the backdoor for the numbers…”

“Nathan made the backdoor without telling me.After he was killed, I refined it, made it safer.”Harold rubbed the bridge of his nose.“You should know that my actions lead to your assignment in Ordos.” 

John started, half-sitting up.Harold put a hand on his chest, soothing him until he laid down again. 

“I didn’t know what would happen, or that you would be involved, but I accepted that my actions would hurt some people in an effort to keep billions safe.Do you remember Daniel Casey?” 

“Yes,” John said with a tight throat. 

“He was part of a tiger team, hired by the government to try to hack the Machine.And he was able to, briefly.He acquired a bit of the Machine’s code before it reacted and protected itself from his attacks.When he came to my attention, the man I was working with —“

“The mercenary,” John interrupted.“I remember him.” 

“Mr. Dillinger, yes.He brought Casey to the Library.It gave me access to his laptop and the code he’d stolen.I imbedded a virus within that code and was preparing to sell the laptop to a buyer I could track when Mr. Dillinger drugged me, stole the laptop and sold it to a Chinese firm that will, no doubt, try to take over the Machine in some way.” 

“Do you know how?” 

“I have a few theories.In the meantime…”Harold paused and sat up to look down at John.“Do you think — knowing that it was _my_ actions that nearly got you killed — Do you still, that is, would you consider —“

“Yes, I’ll keep working with you,” John interrupted.“I’ll date you. Love you.Live with you.I’ll even let you call me Reese.But I want to be your partner, not your employee.We need to start over, like we were supposed to do after 9/11.” 

Harold smiled, his entire face lightening.It made him look ten years younger, John thought.And much less sad. 

“There are some things, like my real name, that I won’t feel comfortable sharing with you,” Harold said.“Ever.But beyond that, yes, I’d very much like that.” 

John felt himself grinning.He reached up for Harold’s hand, bringing it down so he could kiss his knuckles, like he’d done so many years ago when he’d visited Harold and New York for the first time. 

“I think I loved you even then,” he whispered, his breath warm on Harold’s fingers.Harold seemed to understand his meaning and squeezed his hand in response. 

“I knew it when I saw you in my doorway,” Harold replied.“There was no other way to describe what I felt in that moment.” 

John hummed, pleased.Harold rummaged around in the nightstand and produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. 

“Can I bum one from you?” John asked, feeling his entire life shifting into alignment. 

.

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Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter! I'm so glad you've stuck with me and read/enjoyed my story. It's often difficult for me to finish stories, but this one showed up in my brain with an ending and a reasonable way to get there, so I went with it. 
> 
> Have a great day!


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